


Rocket Queen

by rosesaxl



Series: love letters from a californian motel. [1]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: 1980s, 1990s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Health Issues, Other, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 172,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28114863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesaxl/pseuds/rosesaxl
Summary: "Valerie had liked to believe that she’d been let in. Sometime, amidst the endless conversations over lukewarm coffee and smoking ashtrays, Axl had handed over the key and revealed the lock. It was never something she had taken lightly. If nothing else, she had always understood the magnitude of that implication.Because while Axl was incurably hard to know, he was, inevitably, so damn easy to love."Alternatively: In which, a burger-joint waitress falls for the lead singer of an up and coming band.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Original Female Character(s)
Series: love letters from a californian motel. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059656
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	1. introductions

**Author's Note:**

> this story currently exists on wattpad under the same title and account name! it is several chapters ahead there, but i decided to add it to this site because i prefer the format and accessibility. eventually, they will be on the same updating schedule, but for now, this story will be updated twice a week (wednesdays and saturdays) on a different chapter pattern than seen on wattpad until they are aligned.
> 
> thanks for reading, commenting, and interacting!

_Sunday, June 22nd, 1986._

Work at the diner was slow.

It always was, this time of day.

For the third time in a span of ten minutes, Valerie glanced down at the scratched face of her watch. It read 2:47 am and seemed to have done so for the past two hours.

She just finished her mid-shift break, too.

Even with the ceiling fans working themselves into a creaky overdrive, she couldn’t escape the humidity of a June evening in Los Angeles. Her hair stuck to the back of her neck in clumps and her towel began to melt itself into the shape of her hand. She briefly wondered how she’d be able to remove her uniform later.

But that later was _much_ later. Four hours and thirteen minutes later, to be exact.

She looked downwards. 2:48 am. Four hours and twelve minutes later. Okay, _that_ was manageable.

It wasn’t like Valerie had much of a choice, really. California rent was unforgiving, brutally so. But a waitressing stint for Shirley’s was better than the other alternatives she’d been considering when she’d first arrived in the city.

And as she leaned further into wiping away a curious pink stain from the counter-top, she remembered how seriously she’d been considering those alternatives.

Though, things had gotten better over the course of the past two years, all things considered. When she first drove out westward with nothing but a suitcase and her walkman two years ago, she’d been broke and alone.

She’d spent her first night or two in the city sleeping in a grimy motel that held more roaches than rooms. But Valerie had decided almost immediately that she wouldn’t trade any of it if it meant going back home to her mother. And besides, she’d been able to get ahold of her Aunt Sandra, who lived in Monterey Park, via a gas station payphone soon enough. It hadn’t mattered that it’d eaten her last quarter.

Living with her aunt very well could have been a dream. With her thick blonde hair and bugged blue eyes, she was her father’s sister through and through (except for the fact that, in some ways, she’d never really let go of the free-spiritedness that had glamorized so many of her sixties anecdotes). When Valerie took the spare bedroom, left empty for a family that had never materialized, she had no problem calling it hers for a year and eight months.

Aunt Sandra loved having her, too. Even when Valerie’s parents had been together — some odd thirteen years ago — her Aunt had referred to Valerie as her “little shadow”. She hadn’t come around after the divorce, though, presumably seeing no point after her brother, Valerie’s father, had promptly relocated himself in a cabin in upstate Maine. For years, she was just another connection of Valerie’s that had lost itself to space and time.

Her breezy two bedroom apartment was filled to the brim with paraphernalia straight from a Beatles’ vinyl, yet in some ways was more hollow than Valerie’s life at home had been. Years of living alone did that to a place.

Until the end, Aunt Sandra maintained that Valerie had brought a new spark of life to it.

Giving into the romantic notion, Valerie could have pictured herself living there until she’d found someone to settle down with and they’d gotten a place of their own. But the commute from home to Shirley’s was tiresome and her truck could barely keep up. Too much of her money went towards groceries for her and her aunt, anyways.

Yet, she had lucked out one rainy Thursday this past February. Stapled unevenly to the bulletin board next to restrooms in Shirley’s, was a pastel peach advertisement brandishing a girl’s search for a roommate. Valerie had been keeping her eyes peeled for a while, but it was the first one she’d seen that didn’t have her clutching her purse tighter to her body and backing away in fear.

The advertisement described another two bedroom apartment not five minutes from where she worked. All she had to do was submit rent on time. It wasn’t much, that was more than true, but for a girl that had spent the past months toggling between a run-down truck and the Los Angeles bus system late at night, it was almost too good to be true.

So after her shift had ended, Valerie called the number listed on one of the tabs she’d ripped off and pocketed. The girl on the other end of the line was soft-spoken and took her up on her offer to meet for lunch almost immediately—a fact that could have either been extremely positive or extremely concerning.

Thankfully, it was the former.

An hour and two burger-combo meals later, the deal was sealed. Valerie had said goodbye to her aunt and was moved into Jill’s apartment not three days afterwards.

Now she was no longer alone, just broke.

A repeated ringing of the front door’s bell disrupted her from her reflection. She looked up from wiping the counter-top to see a group of five men stumble their way past the glassed-in entry. _Great_.

The drunks that tripped and slurred their way into the diner were by far the worst aspect of the job. Sure, they were funnier than the loners that sat silent in the corner for hours at a time and they generally gave better tips than the flock of seniors that inundated the tail end of her shift, but they were more grabby and obnoxious, too.

Watching the men throw themselves into the nearest corner booth, she mentally prepared herself. From the looks of it, they appeared to be another group of boys trying their hand at the hair-bands that plagued the streets around her.

That wasn’t to say she didn’t like the rock n’ roll scene here — because she did. In fact, she loved it. But a city only had room for so many big-haired assholes decked out in their girlfriends’ leather who acted like they owned the place.

Valerie tucked the cloth into her waistband and readjusted the yellow skirt that sat atop her hips, stitching on a toothy grin. A few subtle pats later and she’d located her paper-pad and pen. After grabbing a stack of menus from the side counter, there wasn’t much left to do but head over.

If she was lucky they might just order coffees and be done with it. She breezed into frame.

“Hi, welcome to Shirley’s. I’m Valerie,” She gestured to her name-tag. “And I’ll be your server today. Are there any drinks I can get you boys started with?”

Two years later and she still didn’t know if 2:56 am counted as “today” or not; when exactly did “tonight” cut off?

Once she’d finished dealing out the menus, five sets of glazed eyes looked up at her. She wasn’t even sure if a few of them were fully conscious.

The first to speak was the leanest of the bunch, with crimped hair so overly bleached it looked burnt.

“Five coffees should be good for now, thanks.” He readjusted his black denim jacket, the safety pins jingling.

“Perfect, should I just take your menus now or are some of you still looking?” Her voice pushed itself up an octave and she wanted to kick herself. It always did that when she was flustered.

“Yeah,” the same guy replied, glancing at his friends, “that should—”

“No, wait, I’m still looking.” Another blonde man—natural, this time—that bookended one side of the booth spoke, his syllables overly drenched in that Valley accent she’d grown to love.

“Take your time, hun. I’ll be back with the coffees.” Valerie spun on her heel and stuffed her booklet back into her apron. Simpler than she anticipated, but not yet over.

On her way, she checked up on Jimmy, a teenager that stopped by every few days armed to the chin with textbooks. He ordered the same thing every time, blueberry waffles with extra syrup, and even if he rarely looked up from her chest when she spoke to him, she looked forward to his presence.

This time, though, he only mumbled his contentment without peeling his eyes from _Advanced Calculus_. Halfway through June, school was long over. Though Jimmy didn’t seem to care much. Valerie continued on.

She reached behind the counter and grabbed the pot of caffeinated coffee, taking care to assume they wouldn’t even bother with decaf. Before she left, she took hold of an extra mug, noticing before she’d left that the table had only four.

Replastering on her smile, she walked back to the boys.

“Here we are, have we made up our minds?” She carefully poured all four cups to the brim before placing the fifth cup in front of a man with more curled hair than she’d ever seen. His was filled before he’d even moved an inch.

_Was he even awake?_

The Valley-blonde looked up, a dopey smile filling his face. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Great! What can I get for you?” She placed the tip of her pen to the pad, returning his smile.

“The Saturday special, how does that work?” He replied, leaning back.

“God, Steven.” exclaimed the man sitting in the middle of the booth. His black hair was shaggy, his shirt half-unbuttoned, and he had sunglasses sitting askew atop his face in light of the overhead fluorescents.

She braced herself. “Yeah, so basically if you order one of the items from this list,” she leaned over with as much dignity as possible to gesture to the menu, “you’ll get one of these items,” Valerie moved a polished red nail to another section, “half off. That make sense, doll?”

“Yeah,” Steven drawled. “I’ll take a short stack of chocolate chip pancakes with, um,” Her hand stalled on the paper, “the sausage links.”

Nodding, she looked down at the table. “Anything else I can get for you boys?”

“Wait, do you guys have whipped cream?” Steven asked, his eyes hopeful.

“Of course, I’ll have them add it. That all?” There was a series of halfhearted confirmations and she bent to scoop up the five menus. The one with the curtain of curled hair still hadn’t moved from his slouched position.

She left to pin the order onto the rack, smiling at the cook as he spun it, before dumping the menus back into the basket. Jimmy, now the only other customer in the restaurant, still seemed content so she took a seat behind the counter and turned her attention to the table full of boys, who’d put their heads together and seemed to be in an oddly serious conversation.

Valerie took advantage of her viewpoint to observe the group. They were all wasted as hell, that much was obvious—most likely stoned, too. But they were diverse enough to hold her interest.

The first one she’d spoken too was quite obviously the tallest. And she could see that his shoulder-length bleached hair wasn’t all that. There were several patches that were dyed darker, as if paying some sort of homage to the bygone punks of the previous decade. His face was kind, trusting. He was somebody she didn’t think she’d run from if she’d encountered him in a back alley.

Okay, that was a lie. This was Los Angeles. Any man she passed at night kicked her body into gear.

On one side of him was the only man she had the name of, Steven. His hair was a shade darker with its length teased to the heavens; the style that was popular now. Sitting with his hands on the table, he tapped a constant rhythm that didn’t seem to bother his friends. Every now and then, he would laugh, tossing his head back to expose two rows of some of the straightest teeth she’d ever seen.

And on the other side of the first man was the one who’d reacted in annoyance to Steven’s constant questions. He had a cigarette lit between his fingertips that he would reach over to rid of ash every minute or two. The sunglasses still sat crooked, masking what surely were a set of painfully bloodshot eyes, but Valerie thought it suited whatever aura he was trying to pull off perfectly. He looked indifferent, utterly _cool_.

On the far end of the booth was the man with a head full of curls. He’d moved since she left, his hair now completely concealing his face as he leaned in towards his friends. The black tank top he wore was ripped in several strategic places as were the black jeans he had on. She could also see another cigarette, this one perched between his lips. The way he spoke around it led her to believe one rarely left the location.

At the same moment, he mumbled something that made the man next to him laugh, causing her eyes to shift leftward unconsciously.

The fifth and final man, she’d rarely even glanced at when she had been at their table-side. And she regretted it deeply.

There was something different here. Valerie could see it in the charming red strands of his long hair, which was artfully mussed from whatever trouble he’d found himself in earlier that night. She could see it in the way he threw his arms over the back of the booth—the black muscle tee he wore displaying lean limbs that were sporadically covered in large tattoos.

While the man hadn’t spoken when she’d taken their orders, it was clear that he was the talker of the group. She watched him consistently fill the space with words when the other four seemed to lull off. Valerie found herself entranced by the way he held himself, driving every inaudible point home without lifting a finger or speaking above a dull whisper.

“—Val... _Valerie_.” The girl jumped slightly, spinning to face the call. It was Manny, Shirley’s night-cook, pointing to a plate full of glistening pancakes and sausage links.

“Thanks.” She jumped from the stool to lift the plate, grabbing a fresh pot of coffee, before pausing in her tracks.

“Actually, Manny?”

The older man turned back, smiling softly.

“Can I get some whipped cream for these?”

Satisfied following the addition, she worked her way back over the boys for the third time that night, only to see that they’ve barely touched the coffee.

“Here we go. Will that be all?” Placing the food in front of Steven, who didn’t hesitate to dig in, she didn’t waste time, zeroing in on the redhead.

She was nearly knocked off her feet from surprise when he locked eyes with her and answered.

“Yeah. Thanks,” his green eyes shifted down to her tag, “Valerie.” His voice was deep, much deeper than she expected. She suppressed the shudder that runs through her with his words.

“Awesome. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” She turned around and bit down hard on her lip, trying to kill the blush that threatened to spill across her cheeks. _Fuck_. There was no way to recover from that.

While the heat is still radiating from her cheeks and small aftershocks are riddling her spine at random intervals, she’s upset by the fact there’s nothing left for her to kill time with. It’d taken approximately two minutes to write up and drop off Jimmy's check at his table when she’d noticed that he’d pushed his plates to the edge of the table and even shorter to pocket the handful of bills he’d left as a tip.

It was also the first time she’d been excited to spend time cleaning a table.

The hands on her watch eclipsed and gravitated away from each other. Valerie put extra thought into organizing the register and changing the coffee filters, just as a way to make the hour go by quicker. But each time she looked upwards, the men were still there, relaxing. Content. She felt her eyes nearly roll back into her head.

And for what? Because she’d been stupid enough to get caught after staring with her mouth open? Some echo of her mother’s voice bounced around her skull.

_It’s rude to stare, Valerie._

Perhaps her mother was right for once.

3:35 am. Three hours and twenty five minutes left. If there was any other employee on the clock right now, she’d ditch for a smoke break.

She sat back down at the counter and picked up her half-finished crossword puzzle. It had a large water ring on the top right corner that caused the pages to crinkle whenever she flipped through them—courtesy of spending one too many nights on her aunt’s coffee table.

The game required a three-lettered word for 13-across. _A snakelike fish_. Nodding her head, she penciled in _eel_.

18-down asked for the eighth president of America. She didn’t have to think for that one and wrote in _Van Buren_.

By the time Valerie rejoined reality, Steven was done eating. He’d nudged his plate to the center of the table and now nursed only his coffee. It was probably tepid by now. The rest of the boys had lit cigarettes of their own and were sat in various positions of alertness. The black-haired boy in the center had his head face-down on the table. The redhead was looking directly at her.

Maybe she wasn’t the one with the staring problem.

She averted her gaze and finished drawing up their check. It was a relatively inexpensive meal, which made her a tad unhappy. The patrons rarely tipped enough to compensate for it.

Ripping it from the booklet, she tucked it into one of those scratched up black folders and began what she hoped was her final trip over to the table.

Placing the check in the center of the table, she picked up the sole dish and let them figure out how to split the cost best. She was glad to be nearly free of them. It was rounding on four in the morning and there were still three hours of her shift left to trudge through.

What she wanted more than anything, really, was to go home, curl up, and forget the existence of this strange encounter. Like she was nearly certain he would.

But, of course, nobody ever said the world wasn’t cruel.

“Hey,” Steven said, looking up from the check, “You ever been down to the Strip?”

Yeah, that’s what she needed; a group of hotshots advertising their insignificant rock band. As if she didn’t get enough of that already. Shirley’s was located five minutes from the west end of the Sunset Strip and it’s dingy parlor decorations and washed up fifties theme were practically beacons for hungover start-ups who’d spent the better half of the evening chugging cheap vodka and blow like their lives depended on it.

But Valerie decided to entertain him anyways, “Every now and then, yeah. Why?”

“We got a band, that’s why.” _Bingo_.

“Anything I’ve heard?” And this is where she’d cue a lineup of dejected faces, ones that were usually more displeased that she’d had the audacity to ask rather than in their own failure to get a song on the radio. Or a record deal, for that matter.

Instead, she’s met with a few small smiles. Odd.

“Not yet,” the curly-haired one replied, looking up. Valerie’s not shocked to see a pair of thick black sunglasses covering his eyes. “We did get signed a few months ago, though.”

His voice was soft like a child’s, sweet.

“You’re kidding? Well, that’s a first.” She shifted her weight, bringing Steven’s plate up to balance on her hip. “Working on anything good?”

The tallest one, with the bleached hair, chuckled a bit. “Yeah, we’ve got about half an album on paper. We just got back from a gig.”

“He means a post-gig afterparty.” The man with the shaggy black hair corrected.

“Fuck off, that too. I’m Duff McKagan, by the way.” He brought his hand up to his head to push back the sunglasses that held his light hair into place.

“You play, McKagan?”

“Bass, yeah.” He looked like a bassist, if she was being completely honest. The low, booming instrument looked like it fit perfectly in his sturdy hands. He seemed unassuming too, like the bass so often was.

“And this is Steven Adler, he’s on drums.” he continued, gesturing to the man with the goofy, lopsided smile she already knew. Valerie thought back to the beat he’d been throwing onto the table and felt the pieces link together in her head.

“Izzy Stradlin, rhythm guitar.” The black-haired boy with the aloof aura tilted his head in acknowledgement. She could almost picture him on stage, standing towards the back with a guitar slung low. He seemed like the type that just stood, did their piece, and left. Sometimes that was nice. It kept the ego down.

Duff pointed to the man with the handfuls of hair, “Slash, lead guitarist.” Slash peeked over his sunglasses and smiled with a lazy, kind grin. She could tell that he had heart.

“Just Slash?” Valerie intercepted.

“Just Slash.” Duff responded.

“I’m not even sure the guy was born with a last name.” Izzy interjected.

She smiled in response, before shifting her eyes to the final member. His job went without saying.

“And finally, L.A.’s resident asshole, _our_ lead singer, Axl Rose.”

 _Axl Rose_. A name like that was guaranteed to wreak havoc on the Strip.

“You any good?” She asked Axl, throwing her rolled-curls over one shoulder.

The syrup from the plate at her hip was starting to cover her thumb. Gross.

“Come to a show and find out.” He responded, knocking the tip of his cigarette into his drained coffee cup.

 _Bold._ She liked that.

“What do you call yourselves?” Valerie could count the number of bands who lived up to the potential of their name. Bad names almost always meant bad music.

“Guns N’ Roses.” Axl responded.

She felt her eyebrows crawl to her hairline. Well, it had the right idea; the aspect of danger and notoriety that so many tried too hard to recreate before collapsing in on themselves entirely.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. When do you play next?”

During the course of the conversation, somebody had paid. She was pleased to see it was the exact amount, saving her a trip back.

“We have a gig booked on Friday at the Whisky. Ten o’clock. You off?” Axl responded, smirking.

She could make out the outline of the face of a woman on his right upper arm.

“I don’t really make a habit of giving my work schedule out to random people, sorry.” Valerie quipped, even if she was more than sure he wouldn’t remember this exchange by tomorrow morning.

Picking up the money, she readjusted the plate in her hands and turned towards the register.

“Your loss, darling.”

And then he stood, promptly setting off a flurry of activity amongst the boys.

Well, that wasn’t what she was expecting either.

The boys inhaled the dregs of their mugs before throwing in their cigarette butts. It wasn’t an easy clean-up, but at least it’d give Valerie something to do.

She watched them file out the door, starting with Izzy and ending with Axl trailing behind. Even underneath the harsh lighting and manufactured setting, there was a curious way about him. A halo of reckless hedonism and foolish pride — the way it felt to travel down country back-roads on a motorcycle without a helmet, to feel the wind rip holes in your skin only to be covered by the cool burn of the night air. The way it felt to swallow vodka straight, no chaser.

It was in the way that he carried himself, like he knew without trying, that he’d garnered her attention. In the highest sense of the word, he was magnetic.

For that reason, he was decidedly dangerous.

And she felt from the base of her soul, a calling. An urge for a rush so powerful it made her head spin.

Oh, fuck it. There was a chance they’d never see each other again, so what was the harm?

“Hey, Axl,” She felt her hands go clammy when he turned to face her from across the room. It was now apparent that his arms were decorated with several tattoos, along with what looked to be dozens of miscellaneous bracelets. “I work every night except Fridays and Sundays.”

“Shit, yeah? Alright, I’ll save you a spot up front.” He placed the stub of his cigarette back between his lips, winked, and was gone.

Just like that, she was left feeling like a tsunami had hit her full force. The fact that the restaurant was barren was a blessing. It took her several minutes to catch her breath.

When her brain had gotten over the depth of his voice, she registered the bitterly familiar Midwestern drawl that tinted his tone. It was a brutal influx of childhood memories that flooded her senses and left her gobsmacked. Izzy’s voice had it too, but not at a level so detectable—his indifference to his surroundings was a trait found from end to end on the West Coast.

In the two years she’d been here, during which she’d planted her roots and long since grew branches of her own, it was the closest she’d been to home. The first breath of something that wasn’t drenched from head to foot in Californian sun or gilded Hollywood glamour.

No more than fifteen words from a man she’d just met and she was sent straight home to the trailer parks of Missouri.

Valerie couldn’t decide if the thought made her want to rush towards any readily available form of escapism or follow that nostalgic wave of homesickness that begged for _more_ of something she couldn’t quite name.

The brief, resounding silence of the joint brought her back to the present. Only as she began making rounds to wipe down tables did she see the large pile of crumpled dollar bills that surely exceeded a fifteen percent tip.

Now that was strange.

To make matters worse, it was placed strategically where Axl had been sitting.

 _Damn_.

* * *

Jill came into Shirley’s about a half hour before Valerie’s shift ended.

She did that every few days; stopped by, ordered a pastry, and talked with Valerie until it was time for her to go to work. Her roommate worked at the local Blockbuster and her shift started just as Valerie’s ended.

The two of them thought it worked out that way. Valerie would work all night and sleep while Jill was out and vice versa. The late afternoon was theirs to share afterwards.

This morning, Jill was dressed in a pair stone-washed jeans paired with a kelly green crop top. It was effortlessly cute, but that could be said about most of Jill.

Quietly, she sat at the bar-top with her raspberry tart and cappuccino, chewing periodically as Valerie filled her in on the recent activity.

Though the two had only been friends for four months, it didn’t seem that way. Their conversation was easy and jam-packed with tangents, interruptions, and jokes—so many that it took Valerie the entire half-hour to tell a five minute story. Well, that and the fact that the flood of elderly early-birds took up a solid chunk of the waitress’ time.

“So, anyways, as I was saying,” Valerie continued after returning from her third coffee refill in the past few minutes, “like halfway through my shift, a band came in. And at first I thought they were gonna be some knock-off Mӧtley Crüe or Van Halen type-thing, you know?”

Jill rolled her eyes, “God, yeah. A trend I’m not gonna miss, I’ll tell you that.”

“But, as I got to talkin’ with ‘em, I find out that they’re actually signed. They’re a real deal.” Valerie had wiped the counters down so many times she could practically see her reflection, but it kept her pigheaded boss at bay, so she kept scrubbing.

“You’re kidding? You don’t see too many of those around here anymore.”

“Right? That’s what I said.” Valerie replied enthusiastically, “Anyways, so their bassist is introducing them all to me, telling me what each of them does and I realize that they’re all actually good-looking. They didn’t have any of those shitty costumes you see ‘round these parts. Just a real, genuine rockstar feel.”

Jill paused with her fork against her lips, pondering. “You think they’ll get anywhere?”

Valerie yawned and shrugged in response, “They’ve got a label and about half an album done.”

“Huh,” the other girl took a sip of her coffee, stopping to wipe her mouth. “I’ve got a friend in a band, you know.”

“You do? What does he play? Why haven’t I heard of him?” She looked up at Jill as she reorganized the basket of pre-wrapped silverware, who shrugged.

“He comes around my work sometimes, I’ve been out with his group once or twice.” Jill pushed her thick, dark hair over her shoulder, “One of the best drummers I’ve heard in a minute, a real sweetheart, too. Weird group name though.”

Valerie chuckled, “Can’t be worse than Def Leppard.”

Jill traced her fork through the leftover raspberry filling on her plate. “No, not that bad. Guns N’ Roses, I think?”

She felt her stomach flip its contents. “No way. Steven?”

She thought back to the happy-go-lucky blonde that sat not twenty feet away from her two hours previously.

Her friend looked up in shock. “You know Steve—wait.”

“That’s the group!” Valerie interrupted, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly.

“Small world, isn’t it? Yeah, they’re cool. I’ve heard them play but it’s been a while.” As she spoke, Valerie took her emptied plate. After Jill denied a refill, she took her mug too. While she dumped the dishes into the bin, Valerie took the opportunity to dream up all the information she’d eventually weed out of Jill.

“Well that saves me time, then. They invited me to a gig next Friday and I didn’t want to think about having to beg you to go.”

“You didn’t even ask.” Jill shot back, her smile mischievous. Valerie applied her best pleading face; pouting her lips and widening her gaze.

“Fine. So which is it?” Jill asked her, placing her chin into her palms as she stared at Valerie with wide brown eyes.

At Valerie’s look of confusion, she pressed further, “Which guy is it? The one that’s got you all excited.”

She bit down a smile, muffling it into her cloth. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Oh come on, Val.” Jill sighed, “You work five minutes from the Strip, this dump is practically a revolving door for strung-out junkies with nothing better to do with their time. Potential musicians don’t really make your evening news.”

Alright, so she had a point. Valerie didn’t talk much about work outside of her shift, unless she was complaining about her lousy boss or poor tippers. The two of them had seen enough aspiring stars to almost have the ability to sense who was legit and who’d they see dealing in back alleys in the span of a year or two.

“I mean,” Jill soldiered on despite the other girl’s silence, “I always thought that Slash seemed really cool. And if it’s Steven, that’s okay too. The only one I really have a problem with—”

“Axl.” Valerie cut in.

“—is Axl.” Jill finished.

“What do you know about him?” Valerie implored immediately, nearly launching herself over the counter. “Oh god, what’s wrong with him?”

“Well, I don’t really know him personally. He’s just got a bit of a reputation is all.”

The waitress had to halt the conversation to deliver a set of meals to an elderly couple. On her way back she took the seat next to Jill, where her earlier crossword puzzle lay abandoned.

“Who doesn’t down here?” Valerie’s sandy blonde curls were starting to fall. With tired hands, she pushed them out of her face.

“Axl’s different.” Jill replied. Well, she knew _that_. “He’s wild, a total fucking flight risk. I’ve seen it.”

“Good.” Valerie said. And contrary to popular opinion, she meant it.

Her best friend glanced down at her watch and frowned. “Alright, well my shift starts in ten, so I gotta head out. We’ll talk about this when I get home, yeah?”

She slapped a five dollar bill on the counter.

“Of course.” They both jumped from the stools in tandem and hugged in parting. As soon as she was gone, Valerie used the last remaining minutes of her shift to replenish coffee cups, restock the filters, and hang up her apron before clocking out with a skirt full of crumpled bills.

7:14 am.

The best part about that? She was off tonight.


	2. andrenaline rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> axl's a fever she just can't sweat out.

_Friday, June 27th, 1986._

Jill’s apartment wasn’t big. 

It was quaint, nestled at the end of the hallway on the tenth floor and hidden behind a scuffed up metal door with a flea market wreath surrounding its peephole. 

It wasn’t much, but Valerie greeted it like home every time. 

In its entirety, it consisted of no more than two bedrooms, a kitchen, a gathering area, and a bathroom. All of the walls, save for the grimy, pale exposed brick that surrounded the kitchen, were painted a soft, eggshell white that draped the space in an inexplicable aura of calm. 

The furniture was either heavily thrifted or handed-down, leaving a soft impression of a grandmother’s touch over the expanse of the apartment. Valerie always felt that way when she was enclosed between the four walls. It was a safe haven; to lie surrounded by the mauve floral pillows and overflowing terracotta pots filled with draping ivy and lush hosta leaves. 

Everywhere she looked there were brief touches of a brilliant personality; the mismatched magnets and crinkled photos taped to the fridge featuring Valerie and Jill smiling bright, the always-filled chipped vase of flowers that sat directly on the center of the round kitchen table, the neatly folded hand-knit blankets that covered the arms of each couch. 

The apartment was overwhelmingly Jill, filled to the brim with the idiosyncrasies that characterized her best friend so delicately. But even with so much life packed into one small space, Valerie couldn’t get enough of it.

It was more than Valerie ever had back home, her bedroom alone nearly eclipsing the trailer she’d shared with her mother. 

Her room was situated in the southeastern side of the apartment, cornered between Jill’s bedroom and the white-tiled bathroom. It was the smaller of the two rooms, but she preferred it that way. Valerie supposed that, in some manner, she’d never really gotten used to living in a space that allowed for more than just function. Nineteen years in a cramped trailer park naturally did that to a person; curbed them of any appetite for excess.

Yet, as she got to pondering, she questioned how true that was. 

She’d called it hers for what was now rounding on four months. The walls were that same white and surprisingly unmarred. Cut out in the walls farthest from the door were large windows that showcased run-down street vendors and unrestrained palm trees for miles, only obstructed by blinds that she usually kept closed—not that she slept on a regular cycle as it was. 

The walls were barren and the bedspread was creme-colored with minuscule rose detailing. It was soft, sweet, and simple; an echo of Missouri in this overproduced heaven. 

Though she hadn’t brought anything from home—any remnants of her childhood belongings were most likely still sitting untouched and collecting dust in the back corner of the trailer. If her mom hadn’t set fire to them already, that is.

But she’d seen the blanket-set sitting neglected in the outlet mall and couldn’t pass up on it, even if it looked nearly identical to the pale pink one she’d had since she was five. It wasn’t her fault that her mom had never let her replace it. 

She had a white nightstand with a brown lamp sitting next to a jewelry box. Most of the jewelry she possessed, which was really just a silver cross necklace and a pair of fake diamond studs, she never took off. The box had been a gift from Jill for her birthday earlier this month. It was the only thing in her room that surpassed the bare essentials. 

And, with the exception of a single gold locket, it remained empty. But the locket had been a gift, too—one found after a fuzzy day they’d spent a beach in May—so, for countless reasons, it was the most precious thing she owned. 

She smiled suddenly to herself. 

At the end of the day, Jill’s apartment wasn’t big. But it was home.

And it was currently in utter shambles. 

Valerie paused. She was standing in the middle of her room, calves against the bed, staring at her wide open closet. There were dozens of clothing articles littered on the floor, most of them thrown before they’d had the chance to touch her skin. 

She’d been at it for hours, desperately rooting through both her and Jill’s closets looking for an acceptable outfit to wear. There was something especially distressing about the fact that Jill had been dressed for over an hour and had long past moved onto her makeup while Valerie stood there, half-naked and dazed.

It’d been roughly a week since she’d accepted Axl’s throwaway invite to his gig. She tried to ignore the fact that it’d been the only thing tumbling around her head for the past six days. It was entirely in vain. The anticipation had stirred in her stomach and warped in her skull so thoroughly that it was almost _impossible_ to think about anything else. 

How she desperately wanted to, though. 

The band had revisited Shirley’s about halfway through the week. She’d been able to make it through the experience, but just barely. It was certainly odd, seeing the physical form of a being that had been plastered to the back of her eyelids without rest. But there was nothing to think about as she wiped down table after table _except_ Axl. The bite of his cheekbones, the curl of his lip, the ferocity that tinted his deep voice. There was nothing but him. 

In a matter of days, a useless crush had taken over her life. _God_. 

The thought reminded her of the task at hand. 

Valerie half-heartedly decided that she liked the mini-skirt that was halfway on up her thighs, an acid-washed piece that her mother would never approve of. And before she gave up entirely, she ripped a sheer mesh shirt from its hanger from the depths of her closet and pulled it over a solid black tank top; one that she was nearly sure she’d slept in last night. It would have to do. 

Shoving her feet into a black pair of knock-off Saint Laurent pumps, she stumbled from her room and into the bathroom. There, Jill held her face inches from the mirror as she applied mascara. 

“You look so fuckin’ cute, Jill.” Valerie whined, inching her way through the door. 

“It’s not my first show, hun. God, Axl’s gonna love that.” She remarked, eyeing the black mesh. 

There was barely room for a single person in the bathroom, let alone two, but Valerie sat herself down on the toilet anyways and set about figuring out her hair.

“You think? You don’t think I should be wearing something nicer?” Valerie responded quickly as she wrapped the blonde strands of her hair around a dented curling iron. 

“Been to the Whisky past dinner? Hell no.” Jill continued to coat on a thin layer of sheer lip gloss, only pausing to look over and smile at Valerie. Her tanned collar bones were accentuated by the white off-the-shoulder top she wore.

“I’m so goddamn nervous. What if he forgot that he even asked? They _were_ drunk out of their minds when—”

Jill cut her off, “I thought you said he asked again on Wednesday?” 

Valerie scrunched her nose, “Well, I mean, he did.” 

She thought back to Wednesday morning, roughly half-past five, when the boys had stumbled through the entrance yet again. It was clear that they were completely out of their senses, of course, but they’d all stitched on their own forms of smiles when they saw her standing behind the counter, setting her insides ablaze. 

They hadn’t stayed for quite so long this time, drinking their coffee in droves before losing themselves to the elusive creeping dawn, but it’d been a more comfortable situation. The midweek rush was nearly non-existent, she’d been able to hang around at their table when her boss wasn’t breathing directly down her neck. 

Valerie had taken the time to pester the guys on their song-writing after watching Izzy scribble a verse onto a napkin a quarter of the way through. She’d had a feeling that they were rarely asked about their music in a serious way, judging by the brief looks of surprise that crossed their faces after she’d spoken, but they jumped in to answer regardless. 

“Well, you know, it’s coming along.” announced Steven, who smiled around the toast in his mouth. 

“Yeah?” 

“No,” Slash laughed. “We haven’t done anything productive in days.”

He wasn’t wearing sunglasses this time, his wide brown eyes sparkling. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? We finished a track last night.” Izzy reminded him before returning to his crumpled napkin. 

Slash’s features bunched up, “Shit, that was last night?”

He shrugged and returned to his plate of french fries. 

“Is it for the album?” Valerie asked, pushing up to sit on top of the adjacent table, crossing her legs. 

“We think so. We play it live so often it might as well be.” Duff responded, taking a puff from his cigarette. 

“What’s it called?” She wasn’t quite sure why she had so many questions for them, or why she was so interested in their day-to-day routine, but she imagined it might’ve had something to do with the fact that they _didn’t_ have one. Nothing was chaining them to the dreaded nine-to-five. Their lives were free of the monotony that crept up on Valerie constantly. 

And if nothing came out of this, at least she could say she’d been entertained during her seemingly endless shifts. 

“Nightrain.” Axl replied.

Valerie pursed her lips, “Like the wine?” 

His eyebrows shot up, “Yeah. You drink it?” 

She looked down at her grease-stained uniform before reaching his curious gaze. “Does it look like I can afford anything better?”

It was phrased as a question, but the table understood. 

“You could probably buy yourself a can of paint thinner. Lasts longer.” Izzy mused, resting the tip of his pen against his bottom lip.

“Don’t underestimate me, Stradlin.” She quipped, jumping down and replanting her feet on the sticky linoleum. Izzy raised his hands in surrender. 

“Alright boys, a customer’s coming in and, officially, I’m on the clock. Anything I can get you before your check?” Valerie stated, placing her hands on her hips.

How striking of a contrast it must have been, the bright yellow of her uniform against a sea of black leather. 

“Nah, we’re good.” Duff answered before returning to his conversation with Steven, who had polished off his toast. She collected his plate. Slash was paying extra attention to his half-finished cigarette and Izzy was officially deep in the throes of his napkin symphony. Axl, who was sitting with his legs kicked up on the opposite seat and his arms outstretched behind him, was the only one with his eyes on her. The realization made her stomach tighten. 

Valerie gave him a meaningful look, “Anything?” 

She drank in his features, from the several layers of necklaces that sat on his neck, to the cool indigo bandana that was tied around his messy red hair. It wasn’t even procrastination at this point, just selfish greed. 

“Do you still plan on stopping by Friday night?”

It was a toss-up for what shocked her more; the fact that he remembered asking her or the fact that he cared enough to extend the invite again. 

Swiping her tongue against a bold red lip, she shrugged, “If you want me there.” 

He angled his head upwards, a bona fide smirk emerging as he spoke bluntly, “You know I do.”

Valerie nodded, feeling the persistent knot in her stomach drown itself in a bottomless pit of butterflies. There wasn’t anything she wanted more than to stay until they left, to spend the rest of her shift lost in whatever pile of chaos the five men descended upon her, to pick apart Axl’s brain until she discovered everything there was to know. Until she clawed out and examined each thought and studied every action and quirk that made him tick like it was her own. Her bones were weak with a desire so strong her knees quivered. 

Turning away before it became noticeable, she fought to keep down the delight that was threatening to engulf her face. 

“Oh, last thing.” The words hit her suddenly. “You guys know Jill, right?”

Valerie pivoted her head over her shoulder. From the corner of her eye, she watched the pair of new customers seat themselves. _Time to go._

“Jill who?” questioned Duff. 

“Vasquez.” 

“Hell yeah! What about her?” Steven trumpeted right as Slash blurted, “Oh, earring girl?” 

“She’s my best friend, I’m bringing her Friday.” Valerie replied to the overenthusiastic blonde man. “And yes, earring girl.” 

Slash’s fist pumped the air. He’d been referring to her roommate’s extensive collection of particularly eccentric pairs of earrings. Just last night, she’d come home with a new pair of hanging rubber ducks. 

“That’s sick. It’s been a while since she’s been to a show.” Steven’s smile was luminous, blinding.

“She said the same,” Valerie returned brightly before exhaling deeply, “Okay, I really have to go. I guess I’ll see you boys Friday, then.”

One last look at Axl’s vigilant face and then she was gone, off to attend to the crowd of senior citizens that would soon fizzle over. 

Then she was back in Jill’s bathroom, so lost in thought that her hair almost fried on the iron. _Ugh!_

“So there’s nothing to worry about then, doll.” Jill said softly. Valerie looked over and watched Jill put in a set of earrings, which revealed themselves to be a dangling set of... _teeth_? 

Well, not everything could hit the mark. 

At least they matched.

Valerie supposed that she was right, too. Axl had expressed twice that he’d wanted her to come, that he’d wanted her to watch them perform. After all, it _had_ been the first thing he’d spoken about to her. 

But she couldn’t erase the sinking feeling that she was setting herself up for some magnificent embarrassment. The last time she’d been involved with a guy was her highschool sweetheart, Danny Westwood, in a relationship cliché enough to be rendered insignificant. 

Sure, they’d dated for four years, which in rural Midwestern terms basically guaranteed eventual marriage. And it didn’t help that her mother had loved him to pieces; with his clean-cut dark hair, crewneck sweaters, and unbudging status as lead quarterback of Ulysses S. Grant High’s football team. Valerie had loved and revered him dearly, too. 

The only problem was, the feelings weren’t returned in full. 

Not towards the end, she mentally clarified.

At least, that’s what he had tearfully claimed to Valerie over the phone two weeks after she had picked up and left home. So much for long-distance.

That confession came after a phone call from her childhood best friend, Carolyn Jones, in which Danny’s sob-story could immediately be reconfigured into _Yes, I cheated on you. No, I won’t be taking responsibility for it_. 

So she hit the brakes on men, not that she’d had the time for them anyways. There were sporadic instances of hook-ups every once in a while, though. Brief one-night-stands that Valerie had been too drunk to fully consider and meaningless trysts she chose not to dwell too hard on. Because, well, a girl had needs. 

Love ‘em and leave ‘em. That’s what it was all about, right? 

But she wanted so fiercely for this to work out. It’d been so long since Valerie had invested such a depth of emotions into a concept, into a person, that she could barely imagine what she would do otherwise. Even if it was all one-sided, she didn’t care. If it was a small, flickering wick that she had to stoke and build up herself, she would do it. 

God, two meetings had forced her brain and heart into inexplicable knots that she was loath to even consider fathoming. This had to be _something_. Didn’t it? 

Fuck. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

She was just another face in the crowd. A notch on his belt. A groupie. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea—

“Valerie!” Jill shouted, startling her from her self-sabotage. “You’re burning your hair again.” 

“Oh, Jesus.” Valerie whispered, freeing the strands from the contraption. 

“Here, you know what, give me that.” Jill removed the curling wand from Valerie’s hand and took over. That suited her just fine. She could barely ever reach the back as it was. 

“You just gotta relax. There’s nothing to worry about. He wants you there. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t.” Jill’s voice was soft, like dripping honey. Valerie felt the fight leave her as her soothing tone wrapped itself around the notches of her spine. 

“You’re sure?” Valerie wrung her hands out. This was quite literally the opposite of cool. She racked her brain desperately for how she was going to make it through the night in one piece. 

“I don’t know him well but just look at the company he keeps. He digs cool people,” She broke off to cover Valerie’s hair in a healthy dose of hairspray, “He digs you.” 

Jill spent a minute or two fluffing her work before stepping back. 

“Now,” The dark-haired girl continued, “A little confidence boost and you’re good to go.”

Raised to Valerie’s line of sight was a familiar black tube of lipstick, Chanel’s brightest shade of red. 

And, like magic, it did the trick. 

It was as though she donned a new persona, a new skin. Even if it was all in her head, she felt as though she were ready to greet anything the night held. 

In retrospect, Valerie knew that it would be too dark in the bar to see and that perhaps her two hour wardrobe fiasco had likely been a waste. It was also a very considerable possibility that Axl would be either too drunk or too busy to look too closely. Maybe both. 

But that didn’t matter. It was time to go. Taking one last look in the mirror, she smiled softly. She could do this. It was a gig, nothing more. 

Exiting the bathroom, she was greeted with Jill hunched over and attempting to wrestle her feet into a pair of heels. The same ones Valerie wore but in white. 

“You ready, girl?” Jill inquired as she stood up, letting out a deep breath and pushing her hair so that it fell in dark waves down her back. 

“Damn it,” Valerie laughed lightly, following her friend out the door, “Not at all.” 

“Good. Let’s go.”

* * *

The bar was packed and the lighting was minimal. 

A haze of cigarette smoke clung to the atmosphere like a thick cloud. But that wasn’t what made it difficult to breathe. 

Stuck in Valerie’s throat was a rock wrapped in layers of barbed wire; no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t push down the nerves. Everywhere she looked there were patrons pushed up against each other, drinks in hand, meshed against the outline of the stage. 

She and Jill were planted up at the front, to the left of center stage. Izzy, Slash, Duff, and Steven were gathered at their instruments. Steven beat the faces of his drums every moment or two, toying around as the other three tinkered with their strings. 

Slash and Steven were shirtless, perspiration already visible on their skin. Izzy and Duff wore so much black they nearly morphed into their surroundings. 

Yet, they all looked undoubtedly deliberate, standing calm before the amassed crowd. 

They were amped up and ready, of course, but there wasn’t an ounce of reservation in sight. 

The microphone stand stood tall in the center, neglected. Axl was nowhere to be seen. The show was scheduled to begin ten minutes ago, but not a single person was angered, as if they figured that was just a part of the shtick.

At some point, Steven had spotted the two of them in the crowd. He gathered his drumsticks into one hand and waved enthusiastically. Jill’s smile was splitting, utterly genuine as she greeted her friend in response. 

“You weren’t kiddin’ about him being a total sweetheart.” Valerie turned to shout to Jill, who shook her head and shrugged.

“Just wait and watch him play, he can rock with the best of ‘em.”

Valerie watched the other boys look around before catching on. She reciprocated their various actions of interest with equal fervor.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” She returned. The blonde man regained a hold on his drumsticks.

It was easier than she thought, to match her behavior to each of the boy’s distinct natures. All except for Axl’s, that was. He was mystifyingly harder to read. 

Unconsciously, she knew that it would be a while until she’d have the ability to crack him open. And even if tonight threw her handfuls and clued her in, she was more than content waiting. 

It wouldn’t be much longer it seemed. 

A premature silence draped over the audience, stifling the flat, radiating buzz. Her heart jumped back into her throat. 

Off to the far right side of the stage, Valerie watched the familiar head of red hair climb into view. Even faster than it was killed off, the noise in the room jumped to an ungodly decibel. It didn’t matter how new this band was, or the fact that they hadn’t put out so much as a single EP, the Strip had claimed them and swallowed them whole. Guns N’ Roses belonged to the shitty Los Angeles dive-bars as much as it did to any of its members. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Axl spoke into the microphone as he surveyed the crowd. 

“We’re Guns N’ Roses.” He paused. “And tonight, we’re gonna start off with a little piece called Welcome to the Jungle”. 

A steady cascading rhythm poured from the speakers as he grabbed the microphone off the stand. Instantaneously, Steven’s drums rose above the cacophony, echoing so loud Valerie could feel it in her chest. Duff picked up the bass-line and Izzy and Slash raced each other on their guitars, filling the small bar with a sound so raw, so vicious, she could hardly believe her ears. The crowd pulsated around her, shoving both Jill and Valerie even further against the stage. 

The sound was carnal, overloaded in capacity. Simply hedonistic. 

But it was _nothing_ compared to the absolute rage that crammed itself into Axl’s voice as he wailed the opening lines. 

His voice was shrill, like a banshee’s, and he used it to its fullest extent. He thundered through the verses and screamed to the chorus, stomping around the stage and personalizing it. There was a curious slither that ran itself down his body, his hips jutting and swaying as he purred about some serpentine lover. The lyrics themselves were gritty, clashing dramatically with the singer’s lustful maneuvers. 

Valerie looked over at Jill, her eyes nearly bugging out of her skull. She’d seen her fair share of start-up gigs in the two years that she’d been here, but nothing that even inched near quite so mesmerizing. 

“I told you,” was all Jill said. Or rather, shouted. 

Before she could respond, the bridge hit and yanked her attention. 

“Do you know where the _fuck_ you are?” shrieked Axl. 

At the crowd’s visceral reaction, he turned back to the microphone. “You’re in the jungle, baby!”

He broke away, heaving. 

“You’re gonna die!” The subsequent howl that belted from some unknown source deep within his chest was unholy.

Smirking to some invisible, heightened audience, it was clear he knew it. 

The song ended with a nasty burst of the guitars, rapidly bleeding into the next. The tune was more simplistic, but featured immediate shredding guitars and crashing drums that pierced her ears. 

Slash’s guitar was slung low against his stomach. He held it differently than she’d seen more players do it, almost vertically, as if sticking up the neck would assist him in hitting the drawn out chords. The man kept his head down as he played, never once looking up to meet the gaze of the crowd. A cigarette was still pinched between his lips, but was mostly ignored as his hand drifted up and down the fretboard. 

Something similar could be said about Izzy, who plucked meticulously at his Gibson as Axl powered through a set of anti-authority lyrics infused with a sheer dose of paranoia. 

Yet, Izzy’s reclusivity was different from Slash’s. It was practiced and intentional. So that Valerie couldn’t tell where the instrument began and the man started. 

Shifting her sight back to Axl—because it couldn’t stray for long—she took in what she could. Her vision was starry and her body was frozen. He was dressed in leather pants and a pair of suspenders that clung to his bare back like a vise. His long hair was plastered to his neck and shoulders, but teased wildly, free of its usual bandana. 

The music cut off abruptly as Axl spit a threat into the microphone, snarling. The introduction of the next song, a thrumming cow-bell manned by an all too ardent Steven, picked up immediately. 

“Alright! This is a little track we like to call,” he halted for a split second and locked eyes with Valerie, “Nightrain.” 

The anxiety that had wrapped itself around her bones dissipated instantly. Electricity filled her veins. 

The four walls that surrounded her were knocked to the ground. The roof flew off its top. The music died away and the waves of dancing bodies lost contact. Her breathing was ragged, but she’d never felt anything so clearly. 

This was what it felt like to _live_. 

Everything about him was cut straight from hell. His smirk was devilish. There was precision in the way he feigned the illusion of lost control. Because, even as he dipped low and hollered the lyrics, it was obvious that he had the reigns pulled tight. The night was young, the world was his. 

Axl got down on his knees, bringing the microphone to his face as he leaned back, chest glistening and arms flexing. 

The sight was drenched in a power so addicting and crude it was nearly obscene. It was animalistic, borderline primal, the way he carried himself. 

Jill grabbed onto her right shoulder, but Valerie barely flinched. She was wholly intoxicated. 

His voice, so raspy and deep when talking, hit outrageously high notes that left her reeling, stunned. The range was unprecedented. 

She watched Axl lunge across the stage, draping an arm over Duff’s shoulders. The taller man, who was bent down into his bass, plunked away at the four strings of his solid black bass. The bassist threw his head back, his grin spanning from ear to ear as Axl leaned up against him and sang the chorus. 

The song itself was loud; reckless. She could picture the clump of men clambering down the Strip, drunk off their asses, shouting the impulsive words into the crisp night air. It was the kind of tune that made her want to jump chain-link fences or, perhaps, crash a car at full speed. 

Similar to the sense of adrenaline the song provided, it was short-lived. The music fizzled out and Axl braced himself upon the microphone stand.

“How are we doing tonight, Whisky a Go-Go?” He addressed the wild crowd, pushing his hair from his face. At the sound of cheers, he continued, “Are we having a good fucking time?” 

More shouts rang out. Somebody a few rows back threw a bra onto the stage. Excellent. 

“Well, I sure as hell hope so,” He shoved the microphone back onto the stand and folded his hands around it. “Can I get a little noise for the assholes behind me?” 

The audience became rambunctious in their praise, enough so that Valerie founded herself joining. One sidelong glance at Jill and the same could be said. Her best friend was beaming, clapping along. Steven rattled off a quick beat or two as Slash unleashed a complex riff. 

They devoured the attention before spitting it back out entirely. 

“Okay, alright. Looks like it’s been a few months since we’ve been here, huh?” He looked down and chuckled at the bra before kicking it away. “Too fucking long if I have anything to say about it.” 

His ability to interact with the crowd without pandering was incredible. The charisma dripped from him in droves. 

He continued to converse with the crowd; to ask what they were drinking, which bars they were going to hit up once the show ended. Anything that came to his mind, he had no problem saying. That brought comfort to her. Their image was legitimate, that was indisputable, but they were still humble enough to care.

After he’d say his piece, he coaxed the band into playing the next song. The night went by in a blur after that. Duff had killed it on My Michelle, a track that had her gasping before rocking her hips in time, Slash had tattered an incomprehensible solo on an old Stones cover, and Steven had provided one of the best drum backings she’d ever heard on Rocket Queen. That was just what she could recall of the content that teetered within the openings in her memory.

As the closing notes of Move to the City left the amps, Axl moved back to center stage. His breathing was labored but fruitless in wiping the sheer ecstasy from his features. Was it the same euphoria Valerie had been unable to jump down from since the set began? She was nearly positive.

“Now this last one is new. Brand goddamn new, actually. Izzy only finished the lyrics to it a few mornings ago. S’called Think About You.” Axl’s eyes swept over the front row once more. Images of the napkin Izzy had been hunched over floated to the forefront of her vision. _Huh_. 

“It’s on the sweeter side.” He assured, the left corner of his lip turning upwards. “But I’ve been doing some thinkin’ lately and I feel as though the room’s gotta hear it, so I pushed the band into playing it tonight.” Axl backed away swiftly before returning to the mic. “Still rocks, too.” 

Valerie acknowledged Jill’s squeeze of her arm this time, only to turn away sporting a magnificent blush when Jill had simply wiggled her eyebrows. Then there was the cowbell again, faster this time, before the room descended into a mess of the other instruments.

The band leapt into the track at full force. They weren’t lying when they’d branded it a softer track—in terms of content, that is—but it had the same effect. The music was loud and grabbed onto anything it could; she felt imaginary hands grip the base of her spine and shake hard. 

Lyrics shifted from heavy, guarded hearts, to drug-fueled blackouts. A series of events that she assumed could probably describe the majority of the band’s content. 

And, before she could catch up, the tempo slowed dramatically, Izzy’s guitar letting out a relatively acoustic piece as Steven tumbled on his cymbal lightly. 

A bleeding-heart, sentimental outro fell from Axl’s lips. 

_Only you,_ he crooned wholeheartedly. The hard-shell exterior he’d constructed seemed to shatter instantly as the realization dawned upon her. It didn’t take another instance of his piercing gaze for the pieces to click together. 

_The room’s gotta hear it_. 

It wasn’t a stretch for her to understand that, despite Izzy’s craftsmanship on the lyrics, Axl pushed for the song to be sung for a reason. 

_Oh_.

The thought slammed into her like a pile of bricks. 

Think About You was played because she was here tonight. Axl sang it for her. 

Only her. 


	3. late night encounters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " it was always late at night when he called, always dark out there whenever you ran into him. you got the feeling he hardly ever saw daylight, didn't approve of it. " 
> 
> \-- mick wall, on axl rose.

_Saturday, June 28th, 1986._

Saturday night, Valerie was back to work. 

Well, actually, it was Sunday morning at this point. Roughly half past two. 

Eliza, another waitress who worked three to four odd shifts at Shirley’s per week, was also on the clock. 

Her presence was a comfort to Valerie. She was tired of being the only employee with no company but the always-busy night cook and the customers who were usually too spaced-out or reclusive to provide any real sense of companionship. 

There was her boss, Ed, of course. But—with no complaints from her—he usually spent an unfathomable set of hours tucked within the back office and rarely ever peeked his head out unless it was to bark orders. 

So Valerie typically spent the majority of her night shift alone and beyond bored. 

“Hey, Valerie.” Eliza called from across the diner, making her way back from the only filled table, “We’re about out of decaf, will you go put another pot on?” 

“Sure,” Valerie responded, twisting off her seat. “Cover the customers coming in, yeah?” 

At Eliza’s nod, Valerie wandered behind the counter and set to swapping the filters, tossing the leaking, soggy one into the trash and replacing it with a fresh, dry one. After scooping a few spoonfuls of the coffee grounds into the tin, she closed the lid and pressed the power button, waiting for the telltale gentle whirring. 

The two tables occupied in the restaurant were attended to. Yet again, she had nothing to do. So she sat back down and picked up her worn crossword puzzle book and twirled her pencil between her fingers, her nails painted a screaming red. 

But as she attempted to focus her sight on the rows and channel her brain power into decoding the clues, Valerie found herself incurably distracted. Every time she closed her eyes, memories from the previous night floated to the forefront. 

The show had ended sometime past eleven, but she and Jill hadn’t gone home then. Axl had been the first to leave, jumping off the stage with nothing more than a _goodnight!_ and a promise of imminent binge drinking. Most of the other members were slower to follow, each taking a little bit more care to bundle up their equipment before taking leave. 

Valerie had taken Jill’s hand and begun to work her way through the slowly dispersing crowd but was stopped by an overzealous Steven, who didn’t let the sweat dripping from his forehead deter his giddiness. 

“Wait, hold up! What’d you think of the show?” He exclaimed, wrapping his arm around Jill’s shoulders and raising his drink to his lips. 

“That’s the best one so far, Stevie.” Jill responded. Excitement bubbling over in her tone, she looked over at Valerie, “I think you’ve all left her speechless.” 

“Yeah?’ Steven remarked, shifting his gaze to the blonde-haired girl. 

Valerie nodded numbly, still dumbstruck by what she’d just experienced. 

“I don’t know what I just saw up there,” She forced the words from her lips, “but there’s been nothing like it. You boys weren’t fucking around.” 

Steven chuckled, “I can’t wait to see the look on Axl’s face when you tell him that. It’ll probably mean more to him than words from any hotshot executive.” 

Valerie furrowed her eyebrows. She locked gazes with Jill, who shrugged. 

Steven looked between the two girls. “The guys and I are heading down to the Roxy for drinks, you’ll come, won’t you?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, Steven. It’s getting kinda late…” replied Valerie. She worked tomorrow night and waking up with a hangover always made for an extra exerting day. 

The budding frown on Steven’s face felt like a physical blow to the stomach. 

“We’ll catch up with you guys in a minute.” Jill cut in swiftly. “The Roxy, you said?” 

Steven nodded vibrantly. “Alright, cool!” Then he turned away, slapping the back of another crowd member and jumping into a conversation, just like that. 

Jill rounded on Valerie. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

“Well,” Valerie started, “I have work tomorrow—” 

“And? We didn’t come all this way for you to back out last minute!” Jill urged. 

“We literally live five minutes away, Jill.” She bent into a harsh whisper, “And I’m not backing out! I _do_ have work tomorrow.” 

“That hasn’t stopped you before.” Jill shot back. 

She paused. “Point made.” 

A satisfied smirk bloomed over Jill’s face. Taking hold of Valerie’s wrist again, she parted through the crowd with a disgruntled Valerie in tow. The familiar ball of anxiety was once again festering itself in the pit of her stomach. 

It was one thing to attend a show, and another to chat with him for a moment or two over a table at work. And yeah, maybe she pushed it by working to hold his gaze one too many times throughout the set, but this, _this_ was a whole other ballpark. 

She’d had him on her turf, in her comfort zone, where she could single-handedly manage just about every facet of the situation. Seeking him out at a post-gig after-party was as stupid as jumping headfirst into the open jaws of a lion. 

“Plus, he didn’t even get to see your outfit,” Jill rambled on, “and I know I didn’t listen to three and half meltdowns for it to result in nothing.” 

Valerie mockingly laughed in response, “Okay, you win. I’m going. _I’m going!_ ” 

And then she was greeted with a gust of muggy summer air as she left the bar. If she had to guess, it was probably cooler in temperature than it had been inside. 

Val trailed after Jill down the sidewalk. Past the smoking loiterers, the clandestine back-alley rendezvous, the drunks puking their insides out down the gutters. Valerie felt as though she was existing in a bubble that was entirely separate from the rest of the world—from just one street over, where she and Jill lived. 

The Sunset Strip was its own little horror. It was the likes of a cut-out utopia. But instead of dystopian surrealism and perfection, it was gritty and hollowed out. It was Hollywood turned on its head and inverted. Depravity ran wild here. She couldn’t get enough of it. 

She ducked into the Roxy. It was less crowded than the Whisky had been, but there were still dozens of patrons stumbling about. Valerie had a fair bit of liquor already running through her veins but it paled in comparison. 

In the corner, she immediately spotted Slash and Izzy sitting within a haze of cigarette smoke. Slash had a beer bottle tucked loosely in the hand that was thrown over the arm of the couch, the other wrapped around a voluptuous brunette, who nipped at his ear then placed a kiss on his temple. 

Izzy was sitting alone with one of his ankles sitting atop his thigh. His sunglasses were back on his face, masking his gaze as he leaned his head back against the wall. A slowly disintegrating cigarette was perched between his thin fingers but he let it sit, forgotten. Valerie briefly considered going over and saying her hellos, but thought better of it. He looked at peace undisturbed. 

Instead, she watched Jill seek out Steven and then she trailed over to Duff, who was leaning over the bar counter, alone. 

She pulled up a stool.

“That was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen, you know.” Valerie announced. Duff turned swiftly at the sound of her voice, jumping in surprise. 

“Yeah?” His voice was bubbly. “I saw you out there, you looked into it.” 

Valerie grinned eagerly. “That blew every single one of my expectations right out of the water.” 

She halted prior to tacking on, “That bass-line on My Michelle was killer, by the way.”

He laughed softly. “Thanks.” 

He rested a warm, heavy hand on her shoulder. “And I’m glad you could make it out tonight.”

She waved him off, “No, please, thanks for inviting me.” 

As she spoke, a bartender passed Duff a bottle of vodka, which he grabbed by the neck and pulled to his chest. 

“Anytime.” He glanced down at her, “Hey, what do you drink? I’m buying.” 

She made a grab for her purse but Duff swatted her away quickly. “Oh, come on, it’s on me.” 

Valerie sighed. _Alright_. “Jack and coke, please.” 

She wanted to press further but sensed the dead-end from a mile away. 

Duff relayed her order to the bartender and turned back to Valerie. “You know, truthfully, you lucked out. That’s the calmest I’ve ever seen Axl at a show.”

She lifted a brow. “That’s...concerning.” 

She reflected on the sheer energy that had bled from the stage as he’d possessed it. She couldn’t comprehend that being labeled calm. 

He’d been an animal. _A_ _monster_. 

The blonde man chuckled, pushing the ruffled hair from his face. Despite his solid black attire and countless layers of metal jewelry, there was something soft about his face. 

It wasn’t filled with naïvety, per se, but something in that general atmosphere; a tinge of tenderness, perhaps. 

“No, not like that. He can just get pretty charged up there, is all.” He broke off to hand over her drink, yelling over at the bartender to add the expense to his tab. 

“If I’m being honest, though.” Duff continued, “I think he was just acting on his best behavior.” 

Before she could respond, the man simply sent her a wink and gestured to the space behind her. Valerie pivoted her head and, startlingly, saw Axl leaning against the wall, cigarette and whiskey glass in hand. 

Once more, his gaze was focused on her. 

She angled back around, only to watch as Duff twirled on his heel and teetered off to the nearest pool table. She hadn’t even had the opportunity to thank him for the drink. 

Nerves fizzled in her throat, the room spun.

_Well, here goes nothing._

Thoughts of the lion’s jaw fluttered through her brain. She was surely sticking her neck right onto the chopping block this time. 

As Valerie neared him, he peeled off the wall and worked towards the door. The stone that threatened to catapult to the bottom of her stomach was caught as his head rotated and he beckoned her with a single, agile movement. He was heading outside and it was clear that he wanted her to follow him. 

Her heart raced. Perhaps she should find Jill and let her know. Just in case. 

The idea was thrown out as soon as it appeared. 

_Fuck it_. She threw caution to the wind and tip-toed her way through the rapidly-filling club. Anew, she was met with a breath of humidity, her curls flipping in the breeze.

Axl continued to walk, only stopping when he’d found an adequately empty section of brick wall. She noticed that, sometime during their separation, he’d found a shirt. It’d certainly make any conversation much easier. 

“You smoke?” He asked, not looking up from his lighter. 

“Uh, no. Sorry.” Valerie responded. 

“Do you care?” He questioned further, eyes flicking downwards. 

“Not at all.” 

She watched him take care to exhale away from her. A warm feeling of gratitude spread its way through her veins. Not because she had some adverse reaction to it, but rather, because he cared enough to take her potential feelings into consideration. 

“So,” Axl began, knocking the ash from his cigarette. “What’d you think?” 

If she wasn’t mistaken, she swore she could hear traces of something hopeful in his deep voice. 

“Honestly?” Valerie replied. He nodded. “I was speechless.” 

“Shit.” His laugh was quick, harsh. “That’s never good.” 

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.” She fired back, a stunning smile making its way to her features. “I’ve been telling your boys it’s one of the best shows I’ve ever been to.” 

The numerous flashing signs that surrounded the area like a halo were the only thing that enabled her to see, the opaque indigo sky casting shadows everywhere she went. He looked paler under that light. Tired, too. 

“You know, the talent they’ve got is so damn impressive but, God, you’re the one that deserves to hear it most.” Valerie proceeded. Axl looked up from the gravel he was kicking. There wasn’t quite a grin on his face but there was... _something_. An inkling, a spark. 

“You mean that?” 

“The guys will get your band to the top, I’m sure of it. But if what I saw tonight is any indication, you’ll keep them there.” She was stunned at how easily the honest words flowed from her tongue. She found herself unable to lie to him. 

There was something about his stony face that demanded the truth from her. 

That devilish smirk was back. “Remind me to call you when we need a good review.” 

Valerie grinned and moved to join him against the wall, curling her drink to her chest. “The only thing I’m still trying to figure out is how the fuck you did that with your voice.” 

He looked over at her, the makeup under his eyes smudged. “Years of church choir.” 

The response startled a laugh from her. “Oh, been there.” 

From the corner of her eye, she watched his glare become curious; she powered through it. “But seriously, Axl, that was incredible.”

He inhaled, “Thank you.” 

She could tell there was more he wanted to say but didn’t, so she just shrugged in response and focused her view on the various marquees that dotted the Strip. 

A silence fell between them for a few minutes. It was comfortable. The only sound that filled the area was that of distant car horns and random bursts of laughter. White noise. 

“Hey.” Axl spoke abruptly. He stubbed his cigarette out with his boot before replacing it. 

“What?” Valerie replied. She could practically feel her soda going flat, yet every time she raised it to her lips, her stomach revolted. She bent down to place it at her feet. 

“Do you know how good you look right now?” He asked, without even looking at her. 

A flush erupted over her cheeks, flames broke out down her neck. It was phrased as a question, but he’d said it like a statement. As if it were some widespread, indisputable fact.

“I—” she stuttered, caught so thoroughly off-guard that words couldn’t capture it. 

“I should have said something earlier, actually, but I couldn’t really say anything over the mic.” Axl leaned in conspiratorially. “Couldn’t let people know I have favorites, you know? Slash might get his feelings hurt.” 

“Well,” Valerie fought to recover, laughing softly. “Thank you. That’s...certainly the most direct compliment I’ve ever received.” 

He rolled his eyes and added, “Not that the usual yellow isn’t good, of course. But a change is nice.” 

Val gained her confidence back.

“If you like the uniform so much, you should stop by more often. Watch how far I roll up the skirt when the boss isn’t around.” 

Maybe she _could_ lie, after all. Because she never actually did that. But if he were to come around, perhaps...maybe she would.

“S’that a promise?” 

Valerie shrugged and echoed his words. “Come and find out.” 

Across the way, she saw Jill calling her over. Valerie glanced down at her watch and realized how late it had gotten. By the way that Axl shifted, she figured he must have seen her friend too. 

He whistled low. “Alright. I’ll talk to the boys and see when we can—” 

“No, come on. That’s not what I meant.” Valerie cut him off and inched towards him. “I work tonight. Shift starts at eleven.” 

She pressed a brief kiss to his cheek, and then she was back-pedaling towards Jill, watching a series of reactions flicker over his features. 

Eventually, he settled on a genuine expression of dazzlement. 

_And it was all because of her!_

Willfully, the smile didn’t fall from her face until she reached home. But she was pretty sure it wasn’t erased in her sleep—because even as he departed from her reality, he rapidly manifested himself in her dreams; a conscious object of desire. 

Behind her, the coffee machine beeped, dragging her back to the present. 

She twisted to shut if off and watched the final dregs drip into the pot. Eliza was tending to that same group of customers, a party of four, whose order didn’t seem to be ending anytime soon. From across the room, she could see how tightly Eliza’s dark-skinned hand was wrapped around the pen. 

Valerie reached behind herself to tighten her apron and straighten her skirt. Grabbing onto the orange handle of the pot, she walked over to the table that Eliza had left before slipping Valerie her request. 

It was a group of three teenagers who didn’t do much more than giggle as she filled their mugs. She was surprised they even drank that shit. 

Valerie was less surprised when they didn’t thank her. 

As she worked to return to her post, huffing disgruntledly, she saw something that made her stomach clench. 

There was a man across the way, his head angled towards her, a cool smirk etched onto his pale features. 

Though it took her mind a few moments to catch up—in which her brain pounded itself to pieces and her thoughts jumbled like wet pasta—she was able to label him instantly.

Sitting there, at the bartop, was Axl Rose.

* * *

She hadn’t even heard him come in. 

The other boys were nowhere to be seen. He’d shown up like she had asked him to, _alone_. Valerie felt her heart grow seven times its size in her chest. Nothing could dilute the smile that sprung to her face. It was full-fledged, with teeth. 

The way he made her heart race with no more than a blink of his eye was astounding; it made her feel like some punch-drunk, lovesick teenager. _Smitten_. 

She thought back to her actual teenage years and the way she’d been duped. Voluntarily, she would trade all of those memories just to feel as she did in this moment, forever. 

But she supposed that, perhaps, it was better late than never.

“Hey,” Valerie greeted. “You came.” 

Axl was dressed in a pair of regular black jeans and a white t-shirt—the first time she’d seen him free of leather. He looked...softer, almost. More approachable, definitely. 

Not that she didn’t like his usual look, with its contrasting crafted abandon, but similar to what he’d said last night, a change was nice. 

The left corner of his lip quirked up, “Call it returning the favor.” 

“If that’s the excuse you’re going with.” Valerie teased, placing the decaf pot back onto the tap and exchanging it for the regular one. Lifting it, she overturned his mug and filled it at his silent nod.

“Anything else I can get you?” She asked. Her thick blonde hair was tucked into a bun today, but she still had to blow the wisps from her view periodically. 

He shook his head. “No, thanks.” 

Axl swiveled briefly around the mostly empty restaurant. “How’s the work going?” 

Brashly, he brought the chipped white mug to his lips, exhibiting a complete disregard for the fact that the coffee was fresh. Scalding was probably the more appropriate term, actually. 

“Better now.” Valerie offered truthfully. 

And it was. He’d caught her at the half-way point of her shift, in the dead of night. The approximate period in which she had no obligations other than dragging her feet from task to task. 

Or, in other words, when her aspirations to quit were strongest. 

He clicked his tongue, “Glad I could be of service.” 

Before she could formulate a proper retort, her voice prematurely broke off. Axl pulled a flask from some hidden pocket, unscrewed the lid, and poured it bottoms-up into his cup.

“I—” Valerie’s voice temporarily died in her throat. “Do you always do that?” 

He lifted a single shoulder in response. “Does this place always serve shitty coffee?” 

She pursed her lips. “Fair enough.” 

“Want some?” 

“I’m working.” She lifted her dishcloth to prove it. 

“And?” 

Valerie scanned her eyes over the diner. “Alright.” 

Accepting the cup from his outstretched hand, she downed a hefty sip, then wiped her lip and pushed it back into his waiting grasp. 

“So, what’d you do today?” She exhaled. “Yesterday, whatever.”

He rubbed at his eyes, “I’ve only been awake for like six hours.”

Her gaze widened. “I really don’t even want to begin comprehending that.” 

“Me either.” 

“Well, I’ll tell you about my day.” Valerie jabbered, leaning over the counter. It was moments like these that she was especially glad to have a coworker. Even with all of her ducks in a row, Valerie was grateful she didn’t have to peek over her shoulder every ten seconds. The pressure wasn’t all on her. 

“Actually. I don’t have anything. I saw you twenty-four hours ago. I got into a fight with my boss a few hours ago, though.” 

Axl’s interest peaked at that. “No shit?” 

“He’s an asshole.” Valerie said, plainly. “I’ve been working here for two years and he still pays me the same as when I blew in.” 

Briefly, she sucked on her teeth. “And that would be fine with me, but you know, I work here six days a fuckin’ week and haven’t missed a single shift.” 

“What’d he say?” He inquired. 

“Find a new job.” She chucked to herself, looking down at her scuffed up white sneakers. “As if it’s that easy—”

“Is he here right now?” Axl craned his neck, searching for the back office. His voice was loud, alarmingly so.

Her body shot outwards to block his view as she whispered through clenched teeth. “Yes, he is.” 

He slapped his hands onto the countertop. “Let me go talk to him.” 

She rushed to de-escalate the situation. 

“But while the wages _suck_ ,” Valerie urged emphatically, “I _would_ like to keep my job. So if you don’t mind, Axl—”

He grunted, but retook his seat. “Just say the words.” 

“It’s nothing new.”

It wasn’t. Since she’d first accepted the job two years prior, it was clear that Ed spared no consideration for her feelings. He rarely gave her a day off, choosing instead to extend her into overtime more often than not. Half of which went without compensation. 

If she ever ran into the need to push her shift or take the day off, she was nearly sure her boss wouldn’t enable it. There was always some odd excuse, whether it was a short-staffed day or a promise of a bonus which never materialized, that tied to her an unbudging week of work, every week. 

Though, beyond the fact that he made her life a living hell, there wasn't much of anything substantial to say on Ed. 

He was a balding, rounded man with no neck and a face so cherried it was borderline cartoonish. She’d told Jill once that she believed the only reason she was hired at Shirley’s was because she’d worn an impractically short dress to the interview. Valerie hated his guts thoroughly, but forced ignorance allowed her to sleep at night. 

She regretted these spoken words, too, judging by the way Axl rebounded. 

“Axl. Let it go, it’s fine.” 

“Why don’t you quit? The pay is shit and so is the coffee.” 

“Because some money is better than no money.” She responded. 

If she had a dime for every time she considered quitting, she’d have enough to sustain rent for the next six months. 

Finally, he seemed to loosen his grip from the topic and began patting around his pockets. He uncovered a pack of cigarettes, fishing through it before tossing the box onto the table. 

“I still think you should let me say something,” He protested around the stick between his lips, “I’d handle it.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you would. And after you do that, Ed’ll handle _me_ by drop-kicking my ass out the front door headfirst. Then where will you and the boys get your second-rate coffee at three in the morning? I’m the only girl on the block that works the graveyard.” 

Axl reached for an empty mug blindly and tapped his ash into it. A hesitant quietness fell upon him momentarily. As Valerie let him ponder her preposition, she trailed off to sit and take the order of a middle-aged man in a leopard print jumpsuit. 

_Huh_. 

The man hadn’t wanted anything more than a pink lemonade. The waitress swiftly fulfilled it, placing the plastic cup and straw onto the corner of his table. His form of gratitude was subtly lifting a finger from where it rested on his copy of the _LA Times._

Maybe the benefits of quitting really would outweigh the costs.

She returned to Axl, who was still bent over his half-finished cigarette. A visible thought was forming on his face. 

“No.” Valerie interrupted, “No more about quitting.” 

“Not that,” He shook his head nearly imperceptibly, “You’re not from here, are you?”

Her breathing suspended itself temporarily. 

So she _hadn’t_ misinterpreted his accent all those days ago.

Valerie had never been told by anyone that her dialect was anything too dramatic. She knew she had a lick of something Southern lacing her words but it usually only stood out against the Valley boys and girls that frequented the area. That was it. 

Yet, it’d been potent enough for him to sense anyways. 

“Missouri born and raised.” She replied in a tone twinged with pride.

A genuine smile burst across his face. 

“Yeah? Where in?” 

“West Plains. You?” 

He ran his hands through his hair, which was both free of a bandana and a hairspray overdose. The several rings on his fingers flashed beneath the fluorescents.

“Indiana. Lafayette.” 

She’d heard of it. But only in the way a person knows street names. It’d been tossed around one too many times for it to be forgotten, but she’d never be able to pinpoint it on a map or anything of the sort. 

Axl took another long drag from his cigarette. “You said you’ve been here two years?” 

Valerie gave a swift nod of her head. 

“To the day, almost.” Tilting her head, she asked, “What gave it away?”

“You hold your _a_ ’s, the accent’s unmissable.” Axl smirked. 

Suddenly, his green eyes became thoughtful. “What sent you west? Don’t look too much like the type looking for fame.”

“Like you, you mean.”

He rolled his eyes. 

“No, it’s nothing dramatic.” Valerie lied. “I wanted one thing, my mother wanted another. And nothing was gonna get solved in a trailer the size of this counter.” 

That was the abridged version of the story. 

In reality, there wasn’t any single event that sent her packing. But, rather, twenty years of uncondensed restriction and pent-up resentment that materialized into never ceasing shouting matches followed by days of passive aggression. A vicious cycle. One she hadn’t been able to handle any longer. 

Valerie remembered the nights she had screamed her voice raw as she lay borderline passed out on the bathroom floor. The nights where tears only fell because she had descended to an astral realm of anger so consuming she had lost the ability to hold them back.

She supposed that normal teenagers would have locked themselves away, but she hadn't the luxury. Valerie never even had a room of her own. Just a cut out corner in the trailer where her raised mattress sat and her belongings piled up. 

And as Valerie cried, her mother prayed. There wasn’t a moment that the woman was split from her rosary, but any fight with Valerie had her gripping the beads like her life depended on it. 

To Valerie, God— _the almighty savior_ —seemed to cause more trouble than he was worth. 

It all only served to stir Valerie’s rage further. At least her mother got to have an outlet. 

Axl bristled. “Seems like we’ve got a thing or two in common.” 

“What’s that?” 

He leaned back and stubbed out the cigarette. “Asshole parents.” 

The cut-and-dry attitude shook a laugh from her chest.

Two years ago, things came to head on a rainy Thursday night, sometime in June. The camel’s back was split in two. Valerie hadn’t looked back since. 

“No, it’s not like that...” Valerie claimed. She tried in vain to wipe the grin from her face. 

“Oh, sure, it never is.” He asserted dryly. 

“Alright, hotshot.” She bent over the bartop. “What kicked you from Indiana? Or were you just born to be a star?” 

He grinned like he knew something she didn’t. But, prior to speaking, he pulled another smoke from the package and lit it. As his hand cupped the flame, she was able to gauge a close-up of his tattoos, which were partially obscured by his multiple layers of bracelets. 

Judging by the beat of extended silence, Valerie expected some drawn out story. Instead, he replied in a short, clipped tone with “The police.” 

She chuckled sardonically, only pausing when he didn’t alter his deadpan face. 

“Oh, shit. You’re serious?” 

“Technically, yeah. I was skipping bail the first time I hitchhiked here.” 

There was simply _too much_ to unpack in that statement. 

“Anyways,” Axl shifted the topic. Valerie wanted to press further but came up empty, words failing her. “The guys and I are thinking about throwing a party next week. Interested in stopping by?” 

“Uh, Friday night?” She questioned, her brain still lagging on his previous statement. 

He nodded and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “That’s the plan.” 

“Yeah, that should work. Where’s it at?” 

Axl fumbled for a napkin. “I’ll write down the address.”

“Need a pen?” Valerie flicked her gaze to the metal canister at the end of the row that held dozens. Axl shook his head in response. Swiftly lunging across the counter, he pulled the one from her breast pocket and proceeded to scribble down the address. All without missing a beat.

The bell that hung over the door began to ring repeatedly. Lifting her eyes, she was met with a large swarm of customers squeezing their way into the restaurant. Her face fell. 

“Damn it. Well,” Valerie started, “It looks like I’ve gotta handle this crowd, so I won’t be around for a minute.” 

He passed the napkin and pen back to her. His dark handwriting was blocky, the letters entirely capitalized. 

“That’s fine, I’ve got to run anyway.” 

Tucking the napkin into her apron, Valerie felt herself grow saddened at the thought. The clock on the far wall told her she had roughly two and a half hours left in shift and she abhorred the concept of trudging through it alone.

“How much for the coffee?” He asked. Gathering his wallet, he filled the emptied pocket with his crushed cigarette package. 

“On me.” Valerie stated offhandedly. 

Still, he threw a handful of singles on the table. 

“For the skirt,” was all he offered. 

A brilliant blush smeared across her cheeks. She hadn’t thought that he’d noticed. 

He was certainly more perceptive than she gave him credit for. 

Axl reached the door, turning before opening it. 

“Bring your friend if you can.” He remarked, shoving his way around the incoming crowd. “I know the guys like having her around.” 

“Jill? Yeah. I’ll see what she’s up to.” She let the excitement creep back into her words. Because, for the fourth time now, each parting brought the promise of another meeting. 

“But tell her to leave the teeth earrings at home, what the _fuck_.” His tone was disgusted but his face gave no indication of such passion. She muffled her amusement into one hand and waved him off with the other. 

“Will do. Goodnight, Axl.” 

“Night, Valerie.” 

Then he propelled himself out the door and into the untamed beast of the night. 

And she got back to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading <3


	4. promise me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which an ultimate disaster to the purity of humanity is revealed.

_July 4th, 1986._

To Valerie’s immense disappointment, Jill was busy that Friday night. 

Valerie wasn’t exactly sure with what, however. She had spent the past hour and a half getting ready, watching Jill erratically storm through the apartment mumbling something about a last minute family function that was unavoidable. Though not much else. 

The girl had thrown on the closest dress and shoved her feet into a toppled pair of heels before she was out the door, shouting her promises to make it up to Valerie in the near future. 

In response, Valerie had stood frozen in front of the mirror. Mascara wand in hand, she began to regret every decision she’d made thus far. 

She hadn’t really ever been to a simple gathering without Jill, much less to a party on the scale that she assumed the band thrived on. And it wasn’t as if she couldn’t go without Jill, she just truly wasn’t sure if she _wanted_ to. 

In her opinion, things weren’t as fun when one was their own escape plan.

During her halt, Valerie quickly reassessed the situation. She’d only mentioned the party a few times in passing, so Jill’s company wasn’t really cemented in. Perhaps it would have been if Valerie had remembered to properly ask, but an overly busy work schedule prevented it. 

There wasn’t much she could do at this point other than go alone. Besides, her make-up was nearly complete, and she’d spent more than enough time deciding on the scarlet dress she was wearing. 

Axl was counting on her, too. 

And so were the other boys, she guessed. Even if they preferred Jill’s company to hers. 

It wasn’t like she had any other plans for the night either. It was a party with the boys or sitting alone at home. She wasn’t much in the mood to catch up on her reading. 

After weighing her options, she finished her face. Valerie was satisfied with the way she looked. The dark eye-liner she had layered on had turned her eyes to steel, reimagining her into a cat on the prowl. The vibrancy of her lipstick matched the exact cherry tint of her dress. She was a town painted red, personified. 

Even better, she’d done her hair first. The light blonde curls were buoyant and ready to go. It was one less thing to worry about.

Making her way to the front door, she unhooked her purse—a small cinched white bag—from the crooked coat-rack. It was lightweight, holding money and little else. (Except for the last minute addition of Axl’s napkin, of course. The paper was beyond crumpled and the writing was smeared in some places, but she threw it in regardless).

Her legs paused halfway through the doorway as she ran through her mental checklist. The June heat was sweltering, even later in the day, so she neglected a jacket. She had her purse and shoes. She had even eaten dinner in a timely manner. 

Convinced that there was nothing she was forgetting, she closed the door behind her and rambled over to the elevator. 

There were plenty of thoughts Valerie had about living on the tenth floor, the most negative of a which originated with the dreaded elevator ride down. On a good day, it was rare that she completed a trip uninterrupted. Today was no exception. 

Shoved up in the back corner, she was stopped on both the seventh floor and the third; the second pause garnering a fair amount of reproving glances at the length of her dress from an elderly woman she’d never met. Valerie simply pursed her lips and kept her eyes glued to the rows of buttons, paying extra attention to the highlighted ‘L’. Only a few more seconds…

The lift bell dinged, the doors parting. Pushing off the wall immediately, she made a show of readjusting her skirt, then exited swiftly. It wasn’t her fault that the lady was damned to wear only pastel capris for the rest of her life. 

Valerie passed through the lobby quickly, racing out to the parking lot. There, sitting in a forgotten back row, was her truck. A dented Chevy that guzzled more gas than it was worth and still smelled faintly of her father’s favorite brand of cigarettes. It was painted red but desperately needed to be revisited. What used to glimmer beneath a vivacious gloss was now faded and rusted. 

She loved it nonetheless. 

Unlocking the door, she launched herself into the cab. The leather upholstery was warmed from sitting unattended in the blistering sun, the backs of her thighs screaming as they made contact. 

But she didn't have much choice other than to adjust as she struggled with the ignition; the engine turning over a few times until it decided to burst to life.

Rapidly, the deafening roar muffled into a dull growl as she threw the transmission into reverse and backed from the lot. 

The address Axl had listed was only five minutes from the apartment, but she wanted to drive anyway. 

It was bordering on seven in the evening. The tangerine skies bled into the clouds, the marigold sun casting a soft glint through the windshield. A breath of warmth slid through her veins. She was excited, unbearably so. So much so that she could feel her bones thrumming. 

Valerie had increasingly started to feel this way. It was a dangerous affection so deep in the pit of her stomach that it controlled her. A hard hit of teenage giddiness mixed with pure magnetism that only strengthened each time she faced him. 

Axl had some strange capability to reach far into her soul and extract gold. He pushed around and dusted off the boring aspects, pulling out somebody that Valerie herself scarcely recognized. This girl had a different edge to her. She was quicker, brighter. 

This girl came out and shone in brief intervals. She later tucked herself back away as he left, like a rose blooming in reverse. 

Only to immediately reappear the next time he came around. 

Each time they spoke, he gained a tighter grip on her heart. It was as if he held the organ directly in his fist, the blood running down his forearm and dripping onto the ground in front of her feet like a sacrifice. 

There was nothing for her to do but watch. Valerie was transfixed by it, entirely content to let Axl play with her heartstrings like marionette cords.

 _Exactly how does one willingly hand their heart over to another?_ She’d like to know.

Yet, the most magnificent feat was his ability to captivate her without once touching her. In the weeks she’d known him, he had never once graced her with physical contact.

And that fact was deeply troubling to her. To the point where it kept her awake some mornings.

On one hand, she was starving for some sort of physical gratification, whether that be his lips pressed to her cheek or his hand wrapped around her thigh. Something— _anything_ —to ground her and cement within her some flimsy halo of permanence. 

On the other, the proximity was enough. The invisible tether that enabled the pair of them to continually circle the same drain gave her more than _nothing_. That had to count for something, didn’t it? 

The sight of his silhouette was becoming a common occurrence, too. Axl stopped by Shirley’s a few nights per week, armed to the teeth in bottomless packages of cigarettes and sheets of half-finished lyrics. While Valerie attended to customers and appeased Ed, he sat hunched over scribbling onto the paper sets of words he seldom let her see. 

Mostly, they were both content to simply exist in each other’s spheres. 

_Shit_. 

Valerie disregarded her previous thought process. She wasn’t sure how much more of this touch-and-go she could sustain. Almost primally, she craved something more, something _deeper._

A sudden hole in the pavement shifted her eyes back to the road. 

Driving down the Strip was always an experience, even if it was jam-packed this time of day with taxis and boisterous clubbers. Her truck stuck out like a sore thumb, the rusted salmon clashing with the sleek corvettes that dotted the curbsides. 

Valerie no longer felt out of place here, not really, but with each rumble of the engine, she became less convinced. 

Every minute or two she turned onto a new street. The nerves smoldering in her stomach prevented her from finding true comfort. Instead, she kept her brain focused on the radio, where a swanky blues tune poured from the speakers. 

Eventually, she reached the junction between Fountain Avenue and North Fuller Avenue, fluidly turning right. The address was permanently burned behind her eyelids in his large, scrawling font. 

Even as she kept her eyes peeled for the house number, she knew without glancing down that she had found it. Pulling up to a small white house, she inched the vehicle further down the block. There were barely spaces left to park.

Valerie squinted. It really wasn’t much of a house, actually. Rather, it was a building that had the makings of something that _could have_ been a home, but instead, wasn’t much bigger than a matchbox. 

There were already bodies piled onto what she assumed was to be the lawn; a small patch of grass that had less life than a box of rocks. It was quite obvious that drinks had long since been in hand and a few kegs were littered at various places in the lawn. From an unknown location, raging metal oozed. 

Parking the truck against the curb, she was loath to jump down from the cab. Her legs felt like lead. 

Once more, uncertainty filled her like dread. This was a bad decision. 

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, she took the time to recollect herself. She fluffed the icy curls and checked her teeth for lipstick. When she was certain she was free of potential embarrassments, she moved to rest her hand on the door handle. Her fingers shook. 

She didn’t know anybody there besides the band and it was quite possible that they would be too busy to even—

“Valerie?” 

Her movements stopped. She craned her neck and stuck her head out the window. Standing in the middle of the street, beer in hand, was Izzy Stradlin. A mammoth wave of relief crashed down upon her. 

He was dressed in a creme-colored, half-buttoned shirt and black jeans. A constant caricature of tranquility that was nearly unfathomable in a setting of such chaos.

Also in place were two necklaces that she’d never seen him without; one was a thin beaded piece and the other was thick and rope-like and sat closer to the hollow of his throat. Both were black. 

“Izzy, hey!” She popped the door and shoved herself off the seat, landing unstably onto two heeled feet. 

He matched her gaze with conviction.

“Is the truck yours?” He asked, gesturing with his free hand to the monstrous vehicle that sat behind her. 

“Uh, yeah. It was my dad’s.”

She wasn’t in the mood to defend the integrity of her ride. It was ugly, she knew that. And, most likely, a complete waste of scrap metal as well. It worked and that was more than enough for her. 

Except Izzy just nodded his head approvingly. His messy black hair shook slightly in the breeze.

“I can’t tell you how much I wanted a ‘63 StepSide when I was fourteen.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

She took care to rearrange her dress in a flattering manner as she fell into step alongside him. 

“Oh, hell yeah. Ask Axl.” He responded. His tone was soft and reserved, but he spoke with a blazing clarity. “I told him that’s what I wanted to drive out here with eventually.” 

Valerie’s brow furrowed. To hear that Izzy wasn’t a California native was enough of a shock in itself, but the fact that he’d grown up with Axl? Several pieces shifted out of place at the thought. 

He picked up on it immediately, “Axl didn’t mention that?” 

“He didn’t mention much about home, actually. We both didn’t—” 

Izzy shook his head. “Do yourself a favor and don’t call it that—home, I mean—he, uh, doesn’t _do_ that.” 

A resounding thud of comprehension rang in her skull. She understood more than most the driving need to bury the past in the past. 

“Got it.” Valerie replied. “Indiana?”

“Lafayette was its own personal brand of hell.” He affirmed, taking a sip from his beer. “But sure, Axl and I knew each other. Shit, we had a fucking band put together before I graduated in ‘80 and left.” 

She let the information wash over her, tucking away random bits to think about later. 

“So he followed you out here, then?” 

He laughed. It was quiet and unassuming, utterly polite. 

“I guess you could say that, yeah.” Izzy remarked. “But I’d be damned if he wasn’t meant to be something more than that shithole gave him.” 

Valerie peered up at him. His face was free of the standard black sunglasses. His hand was cupped around his eyes as he looked ahead to the gatherings that were unfolding on the lawn. 

“You ever tell him that?” She asked. 

“You ever have a death wish?” Izzy responded. 

Valerie matched her smile to his and lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

His face transformed abruptly, slapped by apparent realization. “I guess you do, don’t you?” 

Shocks ran down her spine at the concept. 

_Is that what Axl was? A death wish?_

She changed the subject. 

“So, was the guitar always your thing?” 

Izzy shook his head. “No, actually, it’s funny you say that. I was on drums at first.” 

She had trouble picturing his lithe figure behind a booming drum kit. “Why’d you switch?” 

“My set was stolen.” 

Valerie couldn’t control the laughter that spilled from her. Even when she rushed to muffle it, the damage was done. “Sorry. That’s just—I mean, that’s—” 

Izzy waved her off and rolled his eyes. “I switched to bass after that. And then picked up the guitar a little bit later.”

His features softened. “I guess it stuck.” 

Valerie thought back to the after-party from last week and how she’d been too frazzled to stop by and strike up a conversation with Izzy when she’d seen him. 

“I’m glad it did, though. Stick, I mean, not that your set got stolen.” She paused to accommodate his laugh, “I didn’t get to see you after the show but it was _sick_. Mind fucking blown.”

He thanked her and put a hand around her shoulder. 

They reached the curve in the sidewalk that led them up to the house. From this distance, she could now see strands of lights hanging over an incredibly overcrowded porch. 

“Uh, looks like the party is mostly out here for now. Anything I can get you to drink?” 

The idea of losing his company set off a new fizzle of nerves. “Whatever you got.” 

Izzy released a low-whistle. “You got it. If I see Axl, I’ll let him know you’re here.” 

Her stomach rolled. “Sounds good!” 

He then turned his back on her, setting off to presumably mix whatever concoction would hopefully knock her off her feet. Valerie hoped it was strong. If she wanted to get through the night, she’d need the buzz. 

In his absence, Valerie took the time to drink in her surroundings. There were handfuls of people scattered. They all had something to do and people to hold. A brush of loneliness drifted over her.

She assumed that, in some ways, that was what she liked best about this side of life. The intimacy of it all. How everything meant nothing and vice versa. 

Disregarding what it must have looked to outsiders—to be standing in the middle of the driveway, alone—Valerie realized she could spend the rest of her life just barely toeing the wild side. Even in her physical state of complete silence, she felt as though, maybe, the mere exposure was enough to power her daydreams for the rest of her life.

The quiet didn’t last long, however. Soon enough, Slash emerged from the side of the house, his movements dead set on her path. Valerie met him halfway. 

“You came!” Slash cheered. His tone was still gentle, but laced with an excitement so genuine she felt her mood skyrocket. 

“Hey, Slash! Oh!—” She was cut off as he enveloped her in a hug so energetic that she felt the earth move. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face into the cushion of his hair. 

He replaced her on solid ground. “Hey, where’s Jill?” 

At the reminder, Valerie frowned slightly. “She was busy tonight. She told me to tell you all that she really wishes she could’ve made it out, though.” 

“Ah, fuck. That sucks, man.” He replied. “But, hey, you’re here! And something tells me you know how to _party_.” 

“A very observant man, you are. I’m just waiting on—oh, there he is.” Izzy drifted by, successfully handing off her drink. There was no room for gratitude, he’d left as soon as he’d arrived. 

Lifting her drink to Slash, she took a generous gulp of what tasted like straight vodka. _Amazing_. 

He laughed, a boyish sound erupting from his bare chest. The bottle of Jack that was gripped tight in his hand swung as he rose it to his lips. Half of the amber liquid was missing—a feat that she knew was solely his doing. 

As Valerie sat and nursed her drink, Slash filled her in on the surrounding events. On the far right side of the space, he singled out Duff. The bassist was leaned over a keg, his legs enclosed by two men dressed from head to toe in black leather. She watched as his bleached hair fell in waves over his reddened face, and most impressively, how he didn’t jump down from his keg-stand for roughly a minute or two. 

Valerie just stared blankly as Slash gave a haphazard explanation on who was who because, in truth, there wasn’t anybody of much consequence around. The scene was overwhelmingly filled with start-up musicians and their enthusiastic groupies, as well as the occasional stripper. Most of the goers were so content in their drug-fueled haze that they neglected any sort of persona they’d usually flaunt. 

In a place so studded with talent, it was curiously free of the standard ego.

With an unsteady hand, Slash pointed out Steven. “And there’s Adler. Oh, oops. He looks busy.” 

The man was tucked up against the porch, a beautiful woman draped over his slouched body. Valerie averted her gaze. Not out of embarrassment, but to spare him of another set of unnecessary voyeuristic eyes.

Slash returned his attention back to her. “But yeah, as you can see, there’s not much going on here.”

“No, it’s—” She searched for the right word. “I dig it.” 

“Yeah? Alright, cool.” His smile was toothy and as real as they come. It scraped up some odd feeling of pure joy that originated in her soul. 

Valerie mirrored him as he placed his drink to his lips. From somewhere behind her, a girl called his name. He shifted focus rapidly. A torn expression settled on his features. 

“Go on, I’ll be fine here.” She assured him. 

“You sure?” Slash asked. “I don’t wanna leave you stranded or anything, but she _is_ kinda my date.” 

Valerie’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, go!” 

He rushed to clarify. “I said _kinda_.” 

She simply gave his shoulder a light shove, pushing him in the girl’s general direction; only laughing slightly when he initially stumbled over his own two feet. 

When she lost his companionship, she wandered around in search of the drinks. Sometime within the span of their conversation, she had completely drained her cup. The vodka hadn’t actually been straight—the second sip presenting club soda—but it’d still been strong. 

Not nearly enough, of course, but so much so that she could feel her anxiety curbing itself. The edges were softening. 

_Surely there had to be a table around here somewhere._

Bingo. On the porch balcony, there were a handful of bottles lined up. Without looking, she grabbed the nearest one and filled her cup. It didn’t matter. At this point, she really would drink anything. 

Sipping it, she winced, the liquid burning her throat on its way down. Flicking her eyes to the label, she grinned. It was the same budget brand of tequila she and Jill bought. Prior experience reminded her of something; it was an absolute beast. 

Suddenly, a heavy pair of hands descended themselves upon her shoulders. Valerie almost jumped from her skin, jerking her cup so quickly the alcohol splashed all over her hand. 

Valerie knew who it was. She didn’t even have to look back to verify. The first time his hands were on her and it felt like they’d come home to rest. What an odd sensation. 

It didn’t keep the shock from her voice. “Jesus fuck, Axl! What the hell?” 

His chuckle was dark, his face mere inches from her ear. “Has anybody told you that red is definitely your color?” 

His rings, pressed hard against her, were cold. The contrast from the temperature of her skin, molten from the inevitable blush, was sharp enough to weaken her knees. Axl was holding her up entirely. Without his support she surely would’ve collapsed by now. 

She leaned her head back against his shoulder. “I’ll wear it more often for you then.” 

He squeezed lightly before letting go and moving to stand before her. His black muscle tee displayed his crossed, tattooed arms starkly. The rest of him was covered in black too, down to the bandana that was strategically wrapped around his head. 

“When did you get here?” Axl inquired. 

“Uh, about a half hour ago.” Valerie proclaimed, crossing one leg over the other to hide the wobble in her knees.

“Shit, sorry I missed you.” He frowned faintly before tilting his head to the porch bannister. Examining the row of bottles, he plucked a gin, knocking the cap off with a single twist and chugging it. 

Her eyebrows lifted. Whether it was out of concern or amazement, she wasn’t quite sure. 

“It’s all good. Izzy caught me on my way in and Slash stopped by and gave me the, uh, _rundown_ on this whole thing.” Valerie finished her sentence with a vague gesturing to the cacophony of lechery occurring behind. 

“Of course he did.” Axl snorted. “Have you been in the house yet?”

He nodded towards the white-paneled shack to her right. 

“That’s a house?” Valerie questioned dryly, to which he shrugged. 

“On some nights, sure.” 

“Wait. _You_ live here?” She didn’t really know what she expected, being that it was the band’s party, but she could hardly picture a single person comfortably residing in the space. Let alone five. 

“On and off.” He confirmed and led her up the porch stairs. “It’s a total fucking living hell.” 

The steps creaked as she pressed her weight to them, as if they were only moments from collapse. 

“All _five_ of you... in this house?” She used ‘house’ loosely; semantics. 

“Izzy doesn’t call it the Hell House for nothing.” Axl replied, peeking an eye over his shoulder. 

The mention of the guitarist shifted her attention swiftly. 

Izzy. 

“Oh, that’s another thing.” Valerie faltered.

By the way he’d made it sound, Axl didn’t like to talk about his past. And whatever contents his upbringing contained, she was respectful enough not to pry. If anything, she’d expect the same of him. But the idea of the boys’ roots running deeper than some fateful lineup arrangement, however, seemed too enticing to neglect. 

Valerie tested the waters. 

“I had no clue that you grew up with Izzy. You didn’t mention it last week when were talking about, you know—” 

Axl paused on the porch, turning to her. To the side of his thigh, Steven still sat perched in the same location, despite his partner consisting of an entirely different girl. 

Once again, she diverted her glance.

“Honestly, it just didn’t come up.” 

She couldn’t gain an accurate read of his tone. Valerie was feeling her way blindly through him. There was no way of knowing what he was open to discussing and what he felt the need to keep under wraps. 

It wasn’t like she could ask him. Her hesitation originated from Izzy’s words, not his. 

“You didn’t think I was hiding that or anything, right?” 

His question alarmed her. “What? Oh no, not at all! It just surprised me, that’s all.”

Instantly, his face lost the ounce of severity, a brilliant smile unfolding in its wake. “Next time I stop by the diner, remind me. There’s a story or two I could tell.” 

Her heart thudded violently in her chest. Another promise was locked between them. 

So she nodded in response, ducking when he ushered her beneath the doorway. There was something else she wanted to say, she was sure of it, but it was immediately forgotten when she was greeted with the reality of the Hell House. 

The space was dim and couldn’t have been larger than the gathering area in Jill’s apartment. The few windows that she could see were covered with tarps, pinned shut. Multi-colored lights hung from the rafters, casting a cheap fluorescent glow over the room. 

And what, precisely, the room contained left her stunned. Or, really, what it _didn’t_ contain.

Valerie worked her way further inside. Edge to edge was jam-packed with writhing bodies bumping in time to the heavy beat of the music. Where there weren’t groups of reckless dancers, there were pieces of furniture overloaded by guests seeking to satiate their fixes. 

Everywhere, there were traces of humanity run rampant. Overturned shot glasses leaking cheap vodka, used condoms flung to the ground, mounds of cocaine smeared across cracked reflective surfaces. 

Despite that, she tried to take the space for what it was. Axl’s home. 

Above her, there seemed to be an overhang in the ceiling. Similar to what, under normal circumstances, could be called a loft. But it was rickety, clearly not made of more than a few pieces of plywood. Definitely not fit for sleeping. 

“Oh, Axl.” She murmured out of his earshot.

Valerie turned to face him. His expression was undecipherable. He stood in the middle of the chaos, that same damn smirk etched onto his face, unflinching. The idea that he lived here was deeply unsettling to her. 

Abruptly, it felt as though her oxygen supply was cut off. The sheer humidity of the room had caused a sheen of perspiration to break out over her body. She was clammy, sick to her stomach. There was some fleeting aspect of the room that reminded her of the trailer back home. 

Though this house was wider, it wasn’t by much. Claustrophobia was a bitch; showers of stars floated to the forefront of her vision. The conditions were squalid, inhumane. It seemed like the walls were closing in on her, the ceiling clamping downwards. Ghostlike limbs of invisible dancers began to overlap hers. 

She needed air, desperately. 

Each additional minute she spent here sent her closer back home. Valerie knew all too well the feeling of shoving oneself into a place that wasn’t meant to be lived in, not really. Restraint in a place that was built for comfort and love wasn’t _new_. 

But the idea that Axl and the four other boys had no _real_ place to exist, especially after giving so much of themselves to the streets, gutted her. 

So she left. 

Swiftly, she shouldered her way past the blissed dancers and stepped over the faded junkies, passing through the aluminum doorway once more. It wasn’t even a real door—it folded upwards like the entrance of a storage warehouse.

Valerie wasn’t sure of what she expected, exactly. Five strung-out musicians weren’t quite cut out for the expensive glamour of Hollywood. Although it had to be more than this. From her leverage of sight, what she saw seemed to be all there was. 

And what she saw wasn’t right. 

Maybe it wasn’t her business. They seemed to get by just fine on their own. But she did care. 

Axl’s hand wrapped around her wrist, anchoring her to the bottom step. She didn’t even try to wrestle free from his grip. It was as though her energy supply had been entirely drained during that hellacious interlude. Her past was always creeping upon her and no matter where she went or how far she ran, it couldn’t stay dead. Valerie was tired. 

“Valerie, hey. Hey—” His words were forceful, yet brittle.

Below layers of muck in her brain, she knew on some deep-seated subconscious level that he was still trying his hardest to pinpoint _her_ complexities too. 

That was the only thing that saved her from untangling herself from his ironclad grasp and driving home, from possibly just driving her truck off the nearest cliff. 

“You—” She started gravelly, “You…live _there_?”

Each word felt like a knife to the gut. Pure panic laced her insides. She didn’t know why. 

Axl shrugged. “Why do you care? It works, doesn’t it?” 

Valerie blew right past his words, “Do you even have a kitchen, Axl?” 

“If we’re not crashing somewhere else, we eat out or get takeout. It’s fine, really.” 

He spoke at a level that intended to keep the conversation between the two of them, but it didn’t stop onlookers from zeroing in them. She didn’t blame them, there wasn’t much else to see around here. 

But she was still seeing red, unbelieving that somebody would choose to live that way. Valerie had never gotten a choice. 

“A bathroom?” 

“There’s a facility about fifty yards up the way.” He exhaled, tilting his head in the general direction and clenching his jaw. Axl had loosened his hold entirely on her, letting his hand fall down by his side. 

Her mouth fell open. An immense expression of shock touched down on her face like lightning. 

“Do you even have a fucking bed?” 

She felt eyes on her. It didn’t matter what level of intoxication they were under, an audience was an audience. A shrill sense of humiliation swelled in her chest once more. 

“I know you saw the loft.”

His reply was weak, they both knew that. 

All at once, Valerie felt the fight leave her. Her face softened. Slowly, she began to backpedal down the driveway, twisting around when she reached the end. Her truck was only a handful of feet away from the yard opening; if he wanted to follow, he could. She wasn’t going to fuel the spectacle any longer. 

But the same pounding music shrieked to the sky. The party had resumed in its tracks. 

The dull thump of his heavy footfalls followed her down the road. Quietly, Valerie knew she had probably overstepped her boundaries by several miles, yet a concern so thick and heavy sat in the center of her windpipe, making it hard to breathe. 

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” Axl voiced earnestly. 

“What battle, Axl? Making sure you have a place to sleep?” She turned to face him. The copper strands of his hair, still trapped beneath the black bandana, had become ruffled amidst the commotion. 

“That’s not your responsibility, Val.” 

“As a friend, I think it is, actually.” She spit back. “You honestly expect me to just let you and the guys sleep in a shack made for a single person? If that, even.”

His frown deepened. There was a subtle exasperation dawning in his posture.

“Well, if you gave me time to fucking _explain_ ,” Axl protested hotly, “You’d see that there’s nothing to worry about.” 

After what seemed like miles of walking, she finally reached her truck. 

“Please, pray tell, enlighten me on how I shouldn’t be worried for your well-being based on whatever hell I just witnessed.” As she dug through her purse for the keys, she signaled loosely for him to go ahead.

“Izzy, Duff, and Steven are really only around for rehearsals, first of all. The chicks they’re banging usually let ‘em crash overnight at their places.” He paused to recross his arms. “Slash, too, actually. But his manager also lets him use the apartment above the newsstand he works at if he needs it.” 

Valerie’s head shot up, her eyes bugging. “Okay. So what I’m gathering is that you’re the only one who sleeps here?” 

“Well, uh, yeah. Most of the time.” 

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better... _how_?” She asked. 

If anything, his explanation made the situation worse. Instead of the group suffering through the nightmarish circumstances together, it was just Axl. Alone. 

She wasn’t done arguing but she was hellbent on fixing what she could. Even if he didn’t want the help. 

Valerie unlocked her door and climbed into the cab. Leaving the car door open, she ensured there was plenty of space for him to stand up alongside her. Which he did, his lean frame slotting itself between the seat and the door, leaning his arm against the window. 

“It’s supposed to get you to let it go. If I had a problem with it, I’d leave.” 

“You can’t tell me you like it there, honest to God.” 

“It’s that or the streets, Valerie. It doesn’t seem like much of a choice to me.” 

They weren’t done, but there was nothing left to say. She shook her head. Back at the party, she heard Slash call for Axl.

“I’ve gotta head back anyways. Go see what he needs.” Valerie told him softly. Axl stepped back from the opening, letting the door fall shut in his absence. 

To her surprise, however, he didn’t leave. Rather, Axl stepped up to the open window, grabbing onto the hand that hung out of it. 

“Listen, Valerie. Don’t worry about me, alright? I’m doing what I do best.”

She searched his pale green eyes for any sort of mistruth but came up empty. Every sign pointed to the fact that she was making a bigger deal out of this than it needed to be. But it wasn’t the first time and she’d do it for him, no questions asked. 

“You can’t ask that of me, Ax. I worry.” 

“That’s your first mistake.” He responded apologetically.

“So I’ve been told.” 

He laughed, all traces of tension erased from his body. The sound was dark and rough, but slid over her like water through her hands. 

Valerie gave his hand a final squeeze, the painful pressure of his rings the only thing grounding her. 

“Come on, you stopped me from unleashing hell on your boss. I listened.” Axl pleaded, hooking his hand over the ledge. 

“Yeah, barely.” She muttered, plugging the key into the ignition. The car had little trouble rumbling to life beneath her this time. 

Behind him, the sky was turning a dark velvet and enveloped him in shadows. In the city where angels flew high overhead, he’d fallen far. 

“Just promise me, please.” 

Valerie sighed heftily. “I’m not gonna stop caring, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ll drop it.”

 _For now_. 

A visible wave of relief crashed over him and he nodded. “Fine. Goodnight.” 

Slash called for Axl again, louder this time. 

Softly, she smiled. “Goodnight.” 

He stepped back from the car, inching back into the throes of the calamity. Before she drove away, she watched him move up alongside Slash, throwing his arm over the curly-haired man and accepting an extended shot glass. 

She knew he had a life of his own, one that didn’t intersect with her, but that he also tried his best to make it hers too. And for that, any trouble he put her through was undoubtedly worth it. 

Traffic was bad on the way home, it always was at night. She couldn’t find a cassette that fit the mood either, so she drove in silence. But a single thought ran through her mind repeatedly, filling the space and making it halfway bearable. 

_Just promise me, please._

* * *

The first thing Valerie did when she got home was shed her tight dress. She kicked the red fabric to the corner of her bedroom, narrowly missing her hamper, and left. 

For a few minutes, she walked around freely, clad in nothing but her underwear. 

It felt good to reclaim her complete range of motion. Despite pouring herself a second drink earlier that night, she hadn’t touched it. She’d been sober enough to drive home from the party safety, with no incident. 

Delicately, she moved in time to the Elvis record Jill had left on the turntable. There was something about twirling beneath the guidances of the moonlight that draped her in serenity.

She took extra care to enjoy the time she got to spend with herself. Val loved spending her nights with Axl, but he was still so new. The sight of him by her side, the space he took up in her conversations, the ideas he planted in her head; they were all foreign to her. She hadn’t gained an accurate read on him yet, so it exerted more of her energy than she would have liked to admit. 

And Valerie was always the type of person that needed to willingly accommodate a person into her life. It took time and thought because she didn’t mesh easily enough with people otherwise. 

Whether that was the product of some unresolved issue within her childhood, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she desperately wanted to love people and be loved in return. It just took her a minute to figure out how to best go about that task. 

Spending time embellishing yourself in front of a new crush was a common occurrence for anybody, so she didn’t question it, but _damn_ , was it tiring. 

Valerie spun into the bathroom for the second time that night and went about scrubbing off the layers of make-up. Dark rings of black paste crowned her eyes, prompting her to end the routine with a shower. 

Which, in unmitigated frankness, had really just been her staring at the white-tiled wall for forty-five minutes watching droplets race each other down the surface while the hot, heavy pressure pounded onto her back and soothed her taut muscles. 

It had only taken five minutes to rid her hair of the hairspray, after all, because she hadn’t needed to devote much time into washing anything. She’d done that before she had left.

In truth, there was nothing more she wanted than to drag herself to bed, wet hair be damned. Normally, Val would force herself to remain awake until the morning. In order to maintain some vague sense of the sleep cycle her job required, that was. Yet, she knew she wouldn’t be able to. 

If she could be so lucky, perhaps she could just sleep through the morning. Valerie was certainly exhausted enough for it. She was more than willing to take ownership of the fact that it would cause her to be dead on her feet tomorrow at work.

The shower served well to physically revive her, but it was something internal that had her knees threatening to give way. She had received no buzz from the vodka, either, which didn’t help in preventing the lethargy that’d been swimming in her veins from dragging her down. 

The rush of potent anxiety that resulted after seeing the “Hell House” (as they apparently called it) combined with slowly abating anger at Axl’s indifference—no matter how well-intentioned—had left her finally depleted of all mental motivation.

Val wondered if she had overstepped her boundaries earlier that night. She acknowledged the fact that Axl probably just didn’t want nor need her help, and that they probably weren’t even close enough for her to consider extending it, but she couldn’t staunch her desire to be that source of solace.

At her most basic level, Valerie was a consistent worrier. Factor in the horrifying prospect that he was willingly living in the same destitute conditions she had fought tooth and nail to escape and she became unyielding in her stance. 

It would probably serve her well to remember that she didn’t have the full picture, but try as she might, her mind had been made up. What she had seen simply wasn’t right. 

As she dried herself off, she hummed in contemplation. She’d have to talk to Jill. 

Wrapping her hair into a pale green towel and slipping into her softest pair of pajamas, she took her seat on the couch. Curling her legs beneath her, Valerie settled into the corner of the cushions. Sitting on the edge of the coffee table was a large maroon mug filled with tea, finally cooled enough to drink. 

Valerie stayed there, sipping at the tepid tea as the vinyl player crooned out some thrifted Sinatra, and waited for her best friend to arrive home. 

The clock on the far wall told her it was getting late, the hands dipping past the midnight mark. Stark sapphire skies indicated that the night was at its darkest; the moon was at its highest point. Jill was bound to arrive any moment. She wasn’t one to stay out much later.

And sure enough, as the final song came to a close, the door opened. Jill squeezed through, dressed in a gingham sundress and looking worn out. 

_Maybe tonight wasn’t the best night for this conversation._

Jill smiled over at Valerie nonetheless.

“Hi, I didn’t expect you to be home so soon.” 

She shrugged, “Just tired, I guess.” 

“Hm, how was the party?” When she walked further into the room, she placed her bags on the ground and hung up her sweater. 

“It was good. Slash told me to say ‘hey’, by the way.”

Valerie watched as Jill unwound her sunglasses from her hair. She blew in like a gentle breeze on a summer day. 

“Yeah?” Jill asked, obviously unconvinced. “You sound like you had the time of your life.” 

She took another sip of her tea before responding. “I already told you, I’m just tired.” 

“Then why aren’t you in bed?” mused Jill, smugly. 

“I wanted to wait up for you.” 

Jill’s brows furrowed. “You never do that.” 

“Damn, not anymore, I guess.” Val teased, rolling her eyes. 

After she’d toed off her shoes and nudged them aside, Jill came and threw herself onto the couch beside Valerie. Her willowy figure was almost instantly swallowed up by the sea of throw pillows she was too addicted to buying. 

“Remind me to never say yes to a toddler’s last minute birthday party ever again, got it?” Jill rubbed at her feet dramatically, whining. 

“Noted.” Val offered her mug to Jill, who accepted it blindly. 

“So where was the party at this time? Was it over on Santa Monica?” 

“On Fuller. You ever been to the Hell House?” 

Jill peeked a single eye open and looked over at Valerie. “Oh.” 

Valerie sat up, “So you have?” 

“Well, no. I haven’t. Not personally, at least. But I’ve heard... _things_.” 

“Like the fact that there’s no fucking kitchen? Or bathroom?” Valerie retored tautly, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Who doesn’t have a goddamn bathroom?” 

“Jesus, no. I just thought the place was a pit.” Jill returned, sitting up to replace the mug onto the coffee table. 

“A pit the size of this room, yeah. It’s a goddamn storage space.” The sparks of anger were returning, a faint rage coloring her tone. 

“No way. There’s no way all five of ‘em could put up with that for this long.” As Jill spoke, she rose to her feet. 

“That’s the thing—wait, where are you going?” Valerie was halfway up by the time she completed her sentence. 

“To shower, Val. I’m covered in bug-spray and I’m pretty sure there’s frosting in my hair. Unzip me, would you?” She turned to reveal the zipper that laced up the back of her dress, which Valerie undid while continuing to babble. 

“Okay, well, that’s the thing. It’s _not_ the five of them. Slash, Duff, Steven, and Izzy all crash elsewhere.” 

Valerie wasn’t sure what her goal was for the end of this conversation. Axl had told her to drop it—a request that she was more than comfortable with completely ignoring—but it made the solution all the more complex. 

And what was that solution? She didn’t know. The only thing she was fully certain of was the fact that she wasn’t going to let him live that way. Not if she could help it. Her brain wouldn’t allow it. 

“Oh. So it’s just Axl there, then?” 

Luckily, it sounded like Jill was catching on much faster than she anticipated. It seemed as though Valerie wouldn’t be forced to offer anything of much substance. 

But how could she ask this of Jill? It meant little that Valerie, individually, was happy to lend herself out on nothing but a flimsy friendship. To Jill, he was a complete stranger. Most likely a particularly intimidating one as well, if Valerie thoroughly considered it. 

She couldn’t ignore that he was the likes of a sleazy, aggressive rockstar. One that wouldn’t fit well with Jill. 

Hell, he didn’t even coincide with the image _Valerie_ had always had going for her. But she supposed that was the whole point. 

Val watched her leave. Jill went to start her shower, the squeaky faucet and incessant spray of the water drowning out most of Valerie’s thoughts. 

“That’s what he said. For most nights, at least.” She shouted.

“Ugh, that’s gotta suck.” At her physically crestfallen face, Jill carried on. “Valerie, babe, there’s nothing you can do.” 

“Sure there is.” She reassured with a weak grimace. 

“Like what?” Jill questioned, before an expression of realization dawned upon her face. “Oh, no. No, Valerie, you _can’t_ be serious!”

“Oh, why not?” she pleaded, jumping from the couch and pausing in the bathroom doorway. “Just to sleep, he’ll only be here when you’re at work.” 

“Because we don’t know him, that’s why.” Jill held up her hand, cutting off Valerie’s argument at the neck. “No, love, we don’t.”

The blonde girl folded her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes. “You let me move in after we had lunch once.”

“Yeah, well,” Jill agreed quietly, “That’s different.” 

“How?” She knew she was being stubborn, but she couldn’t yet find the space within herself to let up. 

“Valerie, I’m sorry. I can’t say yes to that. Not right now.” 

_Well, it was worth a shot, right?_

She huffed and stepped back from the door. “Ugh, fine.”

As Jill showered, Valerie moved over to the kitchen. It’d been hours since she had last eaten and her stomach was beginning to cave in on itself. 

She could’ve gone for pasta, but didn’t trust herself to operate Jill’s stove. A burner or two was broken, which, in Valerie’s eyes, was a deadly gas explosion made too easy. 

Jill had her own way of jerry-rigging it, but she was otherwise occupied. 

Instead, she simply pulled a loaf of bread out of the box and smeared two pieces with peanut butter, smashing the pieces together and placing it onto a dish. Carrying the white plate out the round kitchen table, she sat and nibbled on the snack. 

Her wait was aimless, having no future destination other than her bed. But she was no longer in the mood for sleep. It was probably for the best anyway. 

Bored of the silence, she flipped the vinyl, the crinkled voice of Sinatra successfully easing her temper anew.

For twenty minutes, she sat there, alternating between eating her sandwich and tapping her toes to _Moonlight Sinatra._ She spent a large chunk of the time watching the cars pass by below.

She didn’t even budge when Jill exited the bathroom and trailed into the kitchen wrapped in her satin pink bathrobe, her wet hair cast down her back.

Reaching into the pantry, the girl pulled out her favorite box of fruit snacks before sitting down on the table across from Valerie. 

“Alright, I did some thinking,” Jill began, “And if he wants to, he can stay here.” 

Valerie choked on her half-finished bite. She swallowed, coughing. 

For a brief moment, all words failed her. Tears sprung to the corners of her eyes, her heart welling with love for her best friend.

“No,” Valerie breathed. “You were right. I was jumping the gun, really. I can’t ask you for this.” 

But Jill brushed her off, “You like him, right?” 

To herself, Valerie still didn’t yet have the ability to articulate her feelings for Axl. It wasn’t fleeting. She wanted it to stay and linger over her forever, she knew, but that didn’t mean much verbally. 

So Valerie nodded dumbly, hoping it communicated the message. 

“The couch is all his, then.”

“Are you sure? God, I can’t thank you enough.” She extended her hand across the table’s surface, grasping onto Jill’s and squeezing hard. 

“I’m not doing it for him.” She smiled cheerfully. “Just... _don’t_ make me regret this, okay?”

“I won’t.” Valerie promised emphatically. “Oh my God, you have no clue what this means to me. Seriously.” 

Jill leaned against the back of her chair. A slight smile graced her features. “He still owes rent, by the way.”

“Fuck, of course. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” 

“And he’s getting added to the chore board, too.” Jill projected, pointing to the wooden board on the far wall of the kitchen. 

“That’s fine, really. Thank you, Jill.” Her brain was working faster than her mouth operated but she wanted her to know how grateful she was, even if it didn’t make sense. 

“Okay,” Jill patted her hands onto the table. “I’m going to bed. Anything else?” 

Valerie shook her head immediately. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be asking of Jill anything for the next four lifetimes. 

“Goodnight, Val. Don’t stay up too late.” 

“No promises. ‘Night, Jill.” 

Exhaling slightly, she threw her head into her hands. In vain, she tried to comprehend everything that had just transpired over the past few minutes. 

After rinsing her dishes in the sink, she removed the needle from the record. The room was draped in a comfortable silence. 

Valerie made steps towards getting into bed after that, but she didn’t sleep for hours. 

Nonstop, her mind had raced with thousands of possibilities. From the span of his reactions, to his potential interactions with Jill. 

_If he even accepted the offer_ , she had to remind herself. Based on his earlier behavior, it seemed like she had her work cut out for her. 

It was going to be a challenge, one that she was willing to undertake. 

But like she’d said earlier, it was worth it. 

_He_ was worth it. 


	5. some velvet morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i've got a burning desire for you, baby

Despite Axl’s best efforts, Jill’s rules were surprisingly easy to follow. 

That wasn’t to say he went looking for a problem, of course, but a man as stubborn and as attracted to making situations difficult as he was sort of became a beacon to the whole concept. Trouble followed him and, on most days, he was okay with that. 

Scratch that, he fucking _reveled_ in it. 

With Jill’s apartment, however, it was quite the opposite, actually. He exerted most of his energy in remaining respectful and doing what he was told. For probably the first time in his life, that was.

Because, in all honesty, Jill didn’t ask that much of him. 

She had a few requests, but in exchange for a mostly comfortable couch, Axl wasn’t one to disagree. 

Firstly, she demanded that he pay his fair share of the rent. The money was due on the seventh of every month, no exceptions. Between the odd gigs he and the boys played and the work he completed as night manager at Tower Records, he was able to scrape up the required amount. 

Which, after he’d taken a peek at an unattended bill, really only turned out to be a fourth of the sum. 

Secondly, she’d insisted that he completed his part of the chore-board. 

When Axl had first taken a glance at the chalkboard slab, he had thought it was a joke. Towards the bottom of the board, next to a list of tasks that was permanently rotating, was his name. The three letters were written in bright pink and a hand so swoopy, he’d nearly rolled his eyes to the back of his head. 

Axl did them anyway. (Plus, he’d never much minded dishes.) 

There was really only one thing that ran him into trouble. And it was that, above all, Jill wanted to keep drugs out of the apartment. 

She had welcomed him into her apartment with semi-open arms, that much was true, but she was readily willing to kick him from the couch in any case that he violated the rule. 

Now, it didn’t cause too much grief for Axl personally, but definitely for the other guys. They didn’t stop by often because of it. Even if it was becoming an increasingly tempting idea, particularly amongst Steven and Slash. 

So to avoid guaranteed eviction, he told the guys to either shoot up beforehand or show up sober. In an ideal world, they’d choose the latter. 

They never fucking did. 

Although, Axl soon found out that she didn’t care if they _showed_ _up_ high. She just wanted the actual drugs out of her apartment. 

It had taken a particularly strong few lines of blow inhaled momentarily before stepping through the door to confirm that hypothesis. He did with it what he pleased. 

Jill’s distaste for smoking inside _did_ inconvenience Axl, however. And perhaps it said more about his unhealthy dependence than it did her rigidity, but having to constantly carry his conversations with Valerie out onto the balcony got old fast.

Still, he wouldn’t trade the arrangement for the world. 

It had come about in the aftermath of the ill-fated party. Which, in his not so humble opinion, had been one of the more spectacular failures of his life. His expectations for Valerie’s reaction to the Hell House had never been high, though. As a matter of principle, they couldn’t be. 

On some note, he understood her rejection. Her disgust. Hell, there were days when he loathed that damn nightmare more than anyone. But there was something different in the way she had immediately frozen up before peeling out that struck a chord with him. 

Axl had never been gifted in reading women, but he knew fear when he saw it. And more than anything, he had never wanted her to fear him or what he represented. He was sure it was the hill he was going to die on. 

Valerie had stood there, skin flashing beneath the rainbow strobes, paralyzed. Her silver eyes had been ripped open wide, absorbing all seven layers of hell in one go, and he’d been powerless to intervene. How was he to justify the conditions in which he’d lived in? 

(The ones that Slash chose a concrete bed in a back-alley over all too often, he bitterly reminded himself). 

So he didn’t. Axl had just stood there, motionless, until she had whipped around and pathed a beeline to the exit. 

It wasn’t embarrassment that had plagued him then, but something in that general realm. Shame, maybe. Whatever it was, it was brilliant and blinding. Coating his insides in a feeling so powerful, so overwhelming, it set his bones alight. 

Some part of Axl had wanted her to see it, to understand that so much of him was devoted to a life he was so desperately trying to build up that he didn’t care where it scattered him. He had wanted her to know that part of him; to become acquainted with the side that would make due with sleeping on wooden planks and walking fifty yards up the road for the fucking bathroom if it meant he was one step closer to achieving some semblance of his perverted American dream. 

He hadn’t intended to set something off inside of her. Calling it as he saw it, he knew that there was more to her flightiness than simple revulsion. Valerie had looked nearly panicked; it had sent through his stomach a burst of regret so unyielding, Axl had nearly keeled over right there on the porch.

Even with his most vigorous efforts to diffuse the situation, there was no way he could ease the look of distress from her face. The expression had contorted her rounded features into something nearly unrecognizable. Axl had never seen her without the golden glow of a smile. 

The only factor that made it worse? It had been entirely his doing. 

He hadn’t wanted her to go away mad, either. Letting her leave that night was painstaking, one of the hardest things he’d done since touching down in the city. He’d wanted to get on his knees and beg, to plead with her not to see him any different or, worst of all, to pity him. His brain had flooded his mouth with useless explanations and pathetic justifications. 

All that had come out was a half-assed attempt at radio silence. 

_Fuck_. 

Then again, he’d also never been good at expressing quite what he wanted. 

Axl had been fully prepared to never see Valerie again after that. He had certainly armed himself with the sinking realization that he had entrapped her in a false set of expectations while simultaneously pushing her so far away he’d erased all chances of… anything, probably. 

Axl had lost feeling. He’d watched the ruby tail-lights of her truck disappear into the hazy nighttime and then completely lost himself to the chaos. By the time the sky had turned black, he could no longer see straight and he’d lost count of the amount of shots he had downed roughly a bottle earlier. 

The complete obliteration of his senses had nearly made up for the fact that his mind was utterly numb. 

The splitting hangover, although, couldn’t nearly atone for anything. 

That was the precise reason he thought he was hallucinating the next morning. Or, rather, the next afternoon. 

Axl had woken up disoriented in the front lawn, dizzy and lacking a shirt. He was seeing double and could barely form a coherent sentence. Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t even sure of his exact location. 

Yet, he saw her with a startling clarity. 

She stood on the sidewalk, her hair piled high on her head and her fists placed on her hips. Dressed in a sinfully short denim skirt, she looked like a figment straight from his twisted daydreams. The smile hadn’t yet returned, but the disgust was dead and gone, replaced with a hefty dose of concern. He could handle that. 

“You’re not supposed to see me like this.” Axl slurred, peering through two half-shut, bleary eyes.

He didn’t even attempt to sit up, one hundred percent sure the results would be ugly.

“Like what? When you’re reaping the consequences of your actions?” She returned. The corner of his mouth turned upwards. That had been one of the first things he’d noticed about her; the subtle, cruel bite that laced her tone. 

“Way to fucking kick a man while he’s down.”

Reaching up, Axl pushed the hair from his face. Immediately, he was greeted with the assault of a blinding bright light. The sun was high in the sky and shining directly onto his discombobulated figure. There was no escape from its fiery reach, so he just continued to lay there like a butterfly with pinned wings. 

What a scene he must’ve been creating. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t need it.” Valerie replied, inching her way further onto the grass. 

Axl shrugged, “A moment to wake up first would be nice.” 

It tasted as though something had died in his throat. 

She glanced towards the house and then back at him, “Please don’t tell me you make a habit of sleeping in the yard.” 

“God, no.” 

Carefully, he pulled himself upwards, fighting through a wave of nausea. He cast a quick scan of the yard for his shirt but came up empty-handed. Great.

“I usually don’t even get this fucked up.” 

Her gaze was inquisitive. “Something tells me that you’re a fuckin’ liar.” 

“I usually control it better.” Axl amended. 

Valerie sat down on the grass next to him. She was so close that he could practically lean up against her. Axl was silently grateful, being only a few seconds from flopping back onto his back from sheer lack of strength.

A soft beat of silence drifted over them. It was rare to come by, he thought. 

There hadn’t been anybody he clicked so naturally with, so quickly, in years. Nearly every relationship he’d held with anybody, at any point in time here, was a superficial one; a business transaction. Something he’d been craving for God knows how long had just fallen into his lap.

He was suddenly desperate in his need to savor what he could. 

“I’m surprised you came back, though.” He confessed hesitantly. 

Valerie turned to him, her light blonde hair glinting beneath the sunlight. “What makes you say that?” 

Axl tilted his head. His mind felt like lead. “Just didn’t think you’d ever show face around here again.”

“In a perfect world, I wouldn’t.” She stated. “But after what I saw last night—” 

“Let’s just forget it. Shit’s fine the way it is.” He cut her off. Urgently, he wanted to move on and have her forget the horrors. 

“I can’t, Ax.” Her voice was firm, steady. “I won’t.” 

Axl was so tired it weakened his resolve. He exhaled dramatically. 

“After what I saw last night,” Valerie picked up again, “I did some thinking.” 

“Fuck. Fuck that.” No matter how hungover he was, he couldn’t stomp out the creeping defensiveness. That line almost _never_ meant anything good.

“Will you just be quiet for one goddamn minute, please!” Valerie intercepted, her eyes flashing. He frowned but closed his mouth. 

She released a hefty sigh, “I was talking to Jill last night, after I got home.” 

“Oh,” He croaked. Rapidly, she silenced him with a glare. 

“Because I just couldn’t stand the thought of what I saw. What was going on in there,” She threw one of her hands behind her, pointing to the Hell House, “I couldn’t let it go. And I know, _I know_ , that’s what you asked of me, but I won’t do it. You can hate me all you want, too, but I just had to do something.” 

“I told you that there was nothing I needed you to do for me.” He reassured her. He wasn’t exactly sure of where she was going with this, but he didn’t like the general direction that it was pointed in. 

“There was something I needed to do for _me_. That’s what you’re not understanding.” He didn’t know what she meant by that, either. At this point, he couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol anymore. 

“Fine, and what’s that?” 

“Well, if you stopped interrupting me maybe I could get there.” Valerie replied, her voice injecting itself with a lick of irritation. Raising his hands in a final, sarcastic act of surrender, he closed his lips again. 

“My apartment has an extra couch.” She forced out. “I cleared it with her, so if you want it, it’s yours.”

 _Oh_. 

That was...entirely _not_ what he was expecting. 

Axl’s response was immediate. “No. I couldn’t.” 

“Come on,” Valerie voiced. “You said the other boys are all taken care of, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah. But that’s not what this is about. I have a place and it works just fine.” 

Alright, so that was a complete and utter lie. But he maintained a straight face. As big of a shithole as it was, it kept him safe and provided a roof of his head. That was more than he needed.

“Does it?” 

“Yeah, it does.” He retorted. 

Again, she sighed, bringing a tsunami of guilt down upon him. His temper had been a consistent problem. Valerie had been one of the few things he hadn’t fucked up with because of it. God, he didn’t want to start now. 

“Look,” she murmured, softly. “I don’t mean to offend you, really. I just—I just had to extend the offer.” 

“Well, believe me, I appreciate it. I do. But I’ll get along just fine here.” He watched her face fall. His heart felt like it was being ripped into fours. “Trust me, this is where I wanna be.” 

Briefly, images of Indiana jumped to his train of thought. Memories that Axl had tried so hard to rid himself of, to repress in the past, always had their way of coming back. Maybe it was true that he couldn’t outrun the past. But, damn, if he wouldn’t try his hardest. 

Forcefully, he turned his attention back to the conversation. 

“And anyways, I couldn’t ask that of you.” He insisted. 

She placed her elbow on her knee and propped her face up with her fist. “Would it change things if I said I _wanted_ you to?” 

It did. It so fucking did. 

Axl’s attitude towards the matter didn’t shift at all, really, but God. Valerie had jumped through all of those hoops because she cared about him. 

Which, in itself, was already a questionable pursuit. But on top of that, she _wanted_ him to accept the offer. He was wanted. 

How invincible he felt at that very second; to be desired by the very object of his own hunger. Axl felt as though he could chew up the world whole and spit it at hell’s gate. 

It was as though the permeating daze that had filled his head with cotton-balls dried up and floated away. Like the sky following a storm, everything cleared.

_He was wanted!_

Axl looked over at her. If he didn’t know better, he would've believed the look on her face was some shade of hopefulness. There was an astounding, alarming sense of openness to her. It wasn’t a vulnerability. He knew that. But whatever she felt, she wore it on her sleeve. She didn’t feel the need to mask herself, to hide from him. 

Of course it fucking changed everything. _She_ changed everything. 

“Okay, that—that could work.” 

Her body jumpstarted. “Really?” 

A staggering rush of joy reached out to grab him, a small chuckle bubbled in his throat. 

“I’ll have to sort some things out, but yeah. I think so.” 

Axl didn’t have any sort of compensation or anything that could even be considered an adequate show of gratitude. He was dumbfounded, drawing blanks. 

Though, in that split second, the smile that exploded to life on her face was more than enough. It was an exact blend of euphoria and contentment. It was sheer happiness. For once, her expression was one he was proud of causing.

The feeling that the realization evoked was a high he would have easily chased for the rest of his life. 

In that moment, though, he just faced her and smiled back. 

* * *

That was two weeks ago. 

And though the novelty of the couch had mostly worn off, Valerie’s constant close proximity hadn’t. 

She was everywhere. She filled his senses like a sticky, cheap perfume. There was no reprieve from the way she jumbled his thoughts and clung to every inch of his skin. 

There was no escape. 

Everywhere he looked, Valerie was there. If she wasn’t across from Axl at the table when they’d eat half-cold lasagna at eight in the morning, she was asleep in the next room over. 

To make matters worse, there were unlimited amounts of things he’d learned about her, too. She was filled to the brim with these little quirks, these habits, that were so Valerie-esque, that he couldn’t help but track them down obsessively. It became increasingly difficult to hold her to some mentally conjured fantasy when she was so wrapped in genuity. 

She was so _real_ that it pained him.

There were so many of these attributes, that he’d forget them often. They’d leave his brain and for a brief moment in time, he could breathe; only to be reminded with a hard punch to the windpipe when he’d catch her again.

Like the fact that she hated when her food touched, or religiously kept the stereo at an even volume interval. The way she’d pick the thinnest utensil out of Jill’s drawer of mismatched silverware and never walked around with socks on. 

Her nails were repainted once a week. Which, after Axl had mistakenly opened the wrong bathroom drawer, was always from one of four different bottles. Each a varying shade of red. She hated when she had to curl her hair and preferred a set of rollers; but based on the way she blushed when he’d first seen her in them, they rarely made their appearance.

Valerie wouldn’t iron her uniform until it was twenty minutes until she had to leave and the first thing she did when she got home, every morning, was pitch herself onto one of the armchairs that surrounded the couch and groan. She would tip-toe when she assumed he was still sleeping and trade it for a loud ramble when she’d realize he was awake. 

In some way, she was always making noise.

Rapidly, Axl learned that she loved music. She’d hum constantly; soft little folk tunes that he could never place his finger on until hours later. Filling the living room floor were baskets full of thrifted vinyls—most of which were her purchases.

She fiddled with the radio compulsively and would switch radio stations the second she didn’t know a song. (Also, much to his chagrin, often even when she did.) 

And she wouldn’t ever sing out loud, but mouth the words instead. 

Valerie’s presence was so loud, so large, he could rarely think straight around her. It drove him crazy, to feel like such a teenager. 

He supposed that, in some aspect, he had never felt so entirely consumed even when he _was_ one. 

Then again, there had been plenty of other matters occupying his brain at the time. 

_Ding!_

The elevator bell rang and shook him from his thoughts. He’d created that mental list on the ten-floor ride upwards, but his thoughts immediately scattered before he could finish it. 

The band was in tow, so was Jill. She’d caught them at the local gas station and invited them to stop by. 

Axl wasn’t exactly sure what for, but he chose not to ask. Instead, he just dragged his feet behind the group when Steven had enthusiastically agreed. The bottle of vodka Axl had been examining was haphazardly thrown into the candy aisle when they made a mass move for the exit, abandoned.

He supposed it was odd to him because, really, he didn’t even spend that much time in the apartment. The over-present echo of Jill made him feel entirely out of place. Except for the morning, when he slept, he was gone. He nearly always spent the later half of the day with the band and his nights at Tower Records. Or Shirley’s. 

Axl didn’t linger. Whether that was due to a busy schedule or a strategic planning, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he just wasn’t comfortable enough to spend time with Jill alone yet. 

Judging by the way she kept her distance, it seemed she wasn’t too keen on him either. 

Perhaps it wasn’t even a problem for her. Too many things were all in his head too often.

Regardless, it just happened to work out that Valerie was the only one around in the mornings. 

The boys piled out behind Axl. It was midday and all five of them were at varying levels of intoxication. At this point, Axl was probably the best off. Izzy, on the other hand, was visibly caving in on himself. 

Axl readjusted his leather jacket, flipping the lapels outwards and peeked a glance at Jill. She didn’t seem to pay mind and didn’t take her focus away from the door, key in hand. Apartment 1017.

Definitely _not_ 1007\. He’d already made that mistake when he was a little too drunk one morning. Loudly, too. 

“Just so you guys know,” Jill began, pushing the door open. “Valerie might still be asleep. So keep that in mind and don’t be obnoxious.” 

“All good.” Duff responded, raising his flask in acknowledgement. 

“Wasn’t meant for you.” She whispered, “Got that, Steven?” 

“Hell yeah. You won’t even know I’m here.” The blonde man returned, chuckling at a volume that Axl assumed was already inadvisable.

“If only we could be so fucking lucky.” Izzy muttered, grunting when Slash threw an elbow into his sternum. 

Jill pulled herself into the kitchen, letting the boys roam to the gathering area. Duff, Axl, and Steven sat themselves onto the couch. Izzy and Slash took the armchairs. 

Sure enough, when Axl looked to the far corner of the apartment, the white door leading to Valerie’s room was sealed shut. Disappointment replaced the blood in his veins. The idea no longer seemed fun anymore. 

Blindly, he reached out to Duff, who immediately handed Axl the flask. The vodka did little to soothe the upset, but the burn was enough to distract him for the time being. 

“Anybody got a fuckin’ lighter?” Slash asked, an unlit cigarette perched between his lips.

Axl reached deep into his pocket and extracted it. As he tossed to Slash, he wordlessly pointed to the balcony. In tandem, Jill shouted _take it outside!_

“Shit’s not even worth it now, damn.” Slash grumbled, pulling himself up and heading for the balcony. Axl found himself slightly appreciative that they were at least abiding by the rules. It certainly made his life easier. 

“So,” Steven started, ever unable to stay still. “How was work?”

He didn’t address anyone by name, but Jill knew to answer. She was the only person with a stable job, after all. 

“Eh,” She was thumbing her way through a magazine, thoroughly uninterested. “It’s been better. There was a fight over a copy of _Rebel Without A Cause_ between some old woman and a literal child today. That was fun to settle, I guess.” 

“Who won?” Duff asked. 

Jill scoffed, “The old lady, of course. I’m not looking to lose my job.” 

“Apologies for asking.” He responded, smirking. 

Axl shrugged, “Kid coulda sent a one kick to the knee-caps and it would’ve been his.” 

“And that’s why you’re banned from most family establishments.” Slash shouted from across the way, completely disregarding Jill’s request.

Axl swiveled his head. She didn’t seem to care.

_Should he even be surprised?_

He sighed, “You get kicked from one fucking bar and then suddenly you’re—” 

His words intercepted by the creaking sound of a door opening. A visibly drowsy Valerie curved her neck around the door frame. 

“Hang on, what bar are you banned from?” Her voice was heavy with sleep and softer than he’d ever heard it. 

The sight of her icy blonde hair in a thunderstruck halo around her head distracted him from forming a coherent sentence. 

Izzy stepped in, “The Rainbow.”

Valerie gasped, “You son of a bitch! What’d you do to get banned?”

Her gaze was directly on him. He couldn’t _not_ answer. 

However, the memory was so faded in his mind, he didn’t really have one. 

“Obnoxious behavior, I guess.” answered Axl eventually.

Jill giggled over her magazine, shaking her head into the pages. 

“That could mean literally anything.” Valerie complained, retreating back into her room. 

“Do with it what you will.” Duff stated. 

“Dude, what _did_ you even do?” Steven questioned, picking one of the throw pillows up off the floor and shoving it behind his back. 

“I have no fucking clue, man. I don’t.” The red-haired man returned, throwing his head over the back of the couch. 

Slash stumbled back into the room and retook his spot in the armchair. Simultaneously, Jill made her way over to them and perched herself on the arm of the couch next to Duff. Dressed in a light blue sundress, she readjusted her skirt several times before settling down. 

“Hey, before Val comes back, can I talk to you guys about something?” Her tone was solemn, utterly free of its customary softness. 

“Sure,” Steven responded, smiling. “Anything.” 

“Just for a moment I want to be serious.” This time she didn’t direct her words towards any of the men in particular. Axl sat up. 

“What’s up?” Duff queried. 

“So I know that Axl’s really the only one who’s spent a considerable amount of time here,” Jill commented, gesturing to him. “But, I’m guessing that’s gonna change.” 

The men furrowed their brows, collectively confused. 

“Which is fine with me, of course. There’s just something that needs to be said about her.” 

Now they were just concerned.

Jill clarified, “Her room, I should say.” 

“Sex dungeon.” Steven chimed in.

Duff silenced him with a punch, but could barely muffle a giggle himself. Axl just rolled his eyes. 

With the amount of anxiety Jill had infused him with in the past minute, that would be a welcome relief. 

“Steven, please.” Jill whined, drooping her shoulders. Almost instantly, his mouth tightened and his expression became sorrowful. 

“She doesn’t like to have guests over often, you know. And she’s real touchy about letting ‘em into her room. She always has been.” Her voice was dropped to a whisper, so quiet that the boys had to lean in to catch a word of what she was saying. 

“Alright, seriously. She kill a man in there or something?” Slash mumbled. 

“Blood on the walls, definitely.” Izzy confirmed, nodding his head in mock agreement. 

Again, Jill let it slide. Not ten minutes with them and they’d drained her of all energy. That had to be some sort of record. 

“It’s just sort of...empty.” 

“ _Empty?”_ Axl and Duff questioned in unity.

Empty? So she wasn’t a hoarder. Where was the issue with that? 

“Empty. You’ll know what I mean. Two years she’s been here, and I love her to death, but...there’s nothing.” 

“Oh, so fucking what?” Slash brushed off, climbing unsteadily to his feet. 

Jill shook her head. “Just don’t say anything about it, got it?” 

“What’s there to say?” Slash threw his arm up and banged on the door. “Hey, Valerie. Aren’t you gonna come and hang with us? Jill’s being boring.” 

The tanned girl rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen. Axl’s gaze followed her all the way there. Eventually, she beckoned him with a jerk of her jaw. 

By the looks of it, the other boys were distracted by a newly emerged Valerie. He stomped into the other room, ducking behind the pillar as Jill spoke. 

“I’m fucking serious, Axl. I hear one goddamn thing and it’s done.” 

He nodded vaguely, not quite registering her words. 

“Nobody deserves what you had before, not even you, but her feelings get hurt and I’ll drive you back to the Hell House myself. Are we clear?” Her warning set off alarms in his head. 

“What’s the big deal about it?” He questioned loosely, peering with one eye around the pillar. Valerie stood in the same place, the door thrown wide open. All he saw were white walls. 

“She told you about her family, yeah?” 

“I mean, a little bit—not much, really.” He responded. 

“Trailer park?” She shot back. 

Axl nodded. “Yeah.”

“I think _you_ can piece it together. Even if they can’t.” Jill revealed. 

What the fuck did _that_ mean? 

She cast him a meaningful glance. It was enough to put together a premature understanding of what she was getting at. For him, everything had seemed to always tie back to the past. His heart ached at the thought that she shared that pain. 

Quickly, Jill stitched on a smile. All signs of her apprehension were wiped away, replaced by a familiar breeziness.

“Hey, Val.” She opened, strolling from the kitchen. “Hope you don’t mind the company, I didn’t even think about the fact that you’d still be asleep when I invited them.” 

Valerie grinned wide. During the time she had re-closed her door, she had gotten dressed and brushed her hair. She was fresh-faced and vibrant. 

Enough so that Axl momentarily forgot about Jill’s reminders. 

“Not at all.” Valerie beamed. “I’m glad you guys could stop by.” 

“D’you work tonight?” Izzy asked lazily. 

_She did not_ , Axl thought to himself. It was a Sunday. 

“No, thank God.” She replied in-sync. 

Izzy nodded, slouched in the armchair and barely looking up from his lap. If Axl were to guess, he’d say the guitarist was only minutes shy of dropping out of consciousness. 

Briefly, her pale eyes paused on him. “Hi, Axl.” 

His breath caught in his throat. “Hey.” 

If the boys noticed him lose his cool temporarily, they didn’t give any indication. In fact, they were all a little _too_ focused on slipping their eyes behind Valerie’s frame, vying to get a closer look into her room. 

It was definitely a colossal mistake on Jill’s part to bring anything up. Axl doubted that they would have noticed anything otherwise. None of them had come up with a concrete thought outside of the studio in years. 

Something told him that Jill was probably depending on that. 

“So what are you guys up to?” Valerie asked, drifting further into the room. As she moved to sit down on the floor by the couch, the entire group moved to retake their seats. 

“Oh, you know.” Duff replied. “The usual.”

“That means nothing.” Axl chimed in, swooping around to secure the rightmost couch cushion for himself. 

“I picked ‘em up at the QuickMart across the street.” Jill filled in, rolling her eyes. 

“We had just gotten there.” Steven reassured, smile blinding. “Don’t make us sound like such bums.”

“Like you were leaving anytime soon.” She shot back, looking over at Steven. “It was either me or loitering charges.” 

There was a collective shrug. 

“Girl’s got a point.” Slash mused. 

Abruptly, something struck him. What a strange set of people they were. 

It was almost odd the way they clicked into place. Jill was propped on the left arm of the chair Slash was sprawled in, legs pointed towards Izzy who sat in the adjacent chair. The one he’d yet to leave. Across the way and over the coffee table, Steven sat sandwiched between Duff, Axl, and roughly a dozen unmatching throw pillows. At Axl’s feet, with her back against the couch, sat Valerie. She hugged the knees that were pulled to her chest.

It was a mixed bag. One that, should an outsider reach a hand in, was almost guaranteed to rob them of the appendage. The room was filled to the brim of clashing egos and big personalities. And even bigger hair. 

Yet, even then, Axl knew that there was something brewing. Even if he couldn’t quite understand it at the time. 

There was something tying him to Valerie, he couldn’t ignore that. He could see plainly that they were both circling the idea of it, but he didn’t want to push it. Axl had never taken anything so slowly, so carefully. 

Maybe he cared more than he should. Or maybe he just couldn’t get a good enough read of her yet. She was a pit of endless possibilities, one he had just barely begun to skim the surface of. 

It was something precious in those destructive hands of his. Nothing so gentle had ever been shared with him. He feared it as much as he anticipated it. 

But it was also clear that wherever Valerie went, Jill followed. They sold themselves as a set; the very essence of a package deal. 

He wasn’t in the position to complain, though. He supposed there was no Axl without the band. It was just a matter of who was making the biggest sacrifice, he guessed. 

Distantly, Axl recognized there had been some idle conversation occurring while he’d lost himself to his thoughts. What it was about, he would never be able to tell. That was a common occurrence for him nowadays, to float above it all. The only real form of escapism he had was forced ignorance. 

Then, an earth-shattering gasp shook him. Like glass shattering, his stomach crashed around his insides. The clouds that filled his senses parted immediately. 

Valerie was clutching her chest, looking around dramatically. “Jesus fuck, where is it?” 

“Where’d you last have it on, Val?” Jill questioned, jumping down from the armchair. 

“I never take it off, it’s always on—” 

In near synchronicity, the boys mobilized.

“You want us to help look?” Steven asked. 

Axl had no clue what was going on. He was completely and utterly lost. 

“What’s it look like?” requested Slash. 

He heard traces of panic in her tone. She was quick to upset. “It’s silver and small. And it’s got a cross pendant. Sort of like—”

“Wait, what’s wrong?” Axl mumbled, to nobody in particular. Quickly, the room had descended into an explosion of movement. His bittersweet moment of reflection lost permanently in the past. 

Valerie paused, registering his words. “I can’t find my necklace. And I never take it off so I have no clue where it could be.” 

“When’s the last time you knew you had it?” He asked. Briefly, he acknowledged the emptiness of her neck. He’d never consciously recognized any jewelry she’d worn. Much less anything with a cross. 

_Did that mean that she…_

“I, uh, had it on this morning when I got home.” 

“You’re sure?” Duff asked. 

“Positive.” 

“Alright, Steven, you and I take the kitchen.” Jill instructed. “Axl, you check the bathroom. Duff and Slash, you get this room. Valerie, bedroom.”

Her amber eyes met Axl’s, her glare tight.

“Izzy, no need to get up.” She casted out offhandedly. 

Izzy didn’t budge an inch and stayed still even when Axl kicked his shin. Yeah, he was a definite lost cause. 

Equipped with their tasks, they dispersed. Axl wasn’t sure how long it would take to search for a necklace. The apartment wasn’t _that_ big, after all. 

But it was very visibly important to Valerie and he’d comb the entire building with a toothpick if it meant setting things right for her, so he set off towards the bathroom. 

The white tiled floor was clear, that much was obvious. Kicking aside the fuzzy green bath-mats, he was disappointed to see they were too. Yanking aside the shower curtain, he scanned the bathtub floor for any sign of the jewelry. It was completely blank. 

His spirits sank. Axl moved to examine behind the toilet and rapidly sift through the mostly empty hamper. Clear. 

_Damn it._

He lingered a bit, reluctant to walk out empty-handed. There was nothing here, that being an inescapable reality, but he didn’t think that it’d take more than two people to search the floor surrounding three pieces of furniture. 

Axl’s thoughts briefly wandered to an unconscious Izzy. He was sitting in the same chair Valerie had made a habit of collapsing into when she got home. It was very well possible that it could have fallen off into the cushions, essentially lost until some odd hand had gotten lucky years down the road. 

Sure, the other man’s status of being completely dead to the world would prevent Izzy, himself, from looking, but not Axl. 

The idea seemed a little too good to be true.

Peering out the door, he saw that Valerie had moved into the gathering area, shaking out her haphazardly hung uniform. Duff was still pulling apart the couch, throwing the countless pillows every which way. 

He burst from the room, the path that led to the chair was an absolute product of unmitigated tunnel vision. 

His movements, however, were completely stopped by the sight of Slash meandering into Valerie’s room. Even with an irate Jill hot on his heels, something deep in the pit of his chest told Axl that there was no going back. 

At that very moment in time, thousands of thoughts berated his mind. None of which could outweigh the pure, pulsating anger that clawed at his skin. It was like he was watching some apocalyptic world disaster in slow motion and he was chained to the spectator’s box. 

_Divine retribution._ He believed that must have been the most fitting term. 

“Holy shit, this is depressing. Who the _fuck_ died in here—” Slash began, muting and grunting after Jill’s elbow was thrown into his side, hard. 

Everything stopped, the noise level cutting to zero. 

“Slash, man. What the hell.” Duff stood with a tight expression. Tucked under his arms was a handful of pillows.

“What?” He glanced around, visibly confused. “What did I say?” 

Simultaneously, Jill pulled him from the room. The anger on her face reflected what Axl felt internally. 

Somewhere deep down, he knew that Slash was probably wasted ten times over. And it didn’t help that, to begin with, he had never really possessed a filter. Yet, Axl was beyond reason. He was seeing red. 

Without thinking, Axl’s eyes wandered to Valerie. She had gone stiff, her arms falling by her side. Her features were puzzled, like she was trying too hard to piece together a response.

Axl grappled for control. 

His rage hadn’t abated. Rather, it exploded in his chest. He could feel the edges of his sanity fraying. But before he could lunge across the room and rip Slash limb from limb, Valerie spoke.

“No, it’s—it’s fine.” She whispered. “Just keep looking for the necklace, would you?” 

She didn’t raise her eyes towards anyone as she talked, keeping her attention pointed downward as she crossed the short threshold of the gathering area. Valerie hesitated in her doorway, conflicted. 

Axl stood, frozen. It was the only thing that kept him standing, that kept him _sane_. 

Eventually, she exhaled gently and walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Clenching his jaw, he scanned the room. Steven stood with his hands on the counter, head bowed. Duff was distracting himself by fixing the couch. Izzy was still asleep, unresponsive. 

“Get him out.” Axl stammered.

Wordlessly, Jill led Slash roughly by the elbow, dragging him out the front door. He stumbled in her wake, muttering strings of obscenities. 

He could feel the fury eating at him like a parasite. If Slash didn’t evade his line of sight in the next few seconds, Axl wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep a lid on it. 

The metal door slammed shut, sealing the space in a wave of silence. Nobody dared to move. 

Then, a sharp sense of remembrance struck him. Axl beelined for the armchair. He reached for Izzy’s shoulder, yanking his body away from the chair. Searching through the cushions, his hand felt something metal, something thin. _Thank fucking God_. 

Lifting it, he curled the chain in his palm. For a split second, relief replaced the anger in his veins. 

He threw Izzy back onto the chair. The man groaned, but didn’t wake. 

“Damn it, Iz. Duff, keep an eye on him.”

There was nothing stopping him from stomping right over to her door. It was most likely a melting pot of guilt, shame, and pure fucking regret that made his movements unstable...but his path was clear. 

The brittleness of the moment was omnipresent. It had begun to feel like each day presented him with a new side of Valerie. She was of multitudes. And, try as he might, he couldn’t pin her down. 

This sadness, though, had once again been the result of his carelessness. Another fault of his. 

For once, he just wanted to fix something. 

He wanted to know her, too. 

Axl didn’t want to box her in, not in the slightest. Without giving it much thought, he understood that the task was inherently fruitless. Still, there was something particularly tempting about being able to understand each frame of her kaleidoscope. Beneath the fractured splinters, there was something cohesive. He just had to dig for it. 

Whatever had caused her to curl up inside herself, whatever chained her to the necklace in his hand, seemed as good a point as any to start off. To establish something more concrete than the flimsy, entwined silhouettes they’d been tracing. 

There was so much he lusted after, he knew that. He’d found himself in a splicing predicament; to both want her and be wanted by her. It was entirely possible that it was his fatal flaw. Desire. 

God, he felt sick. 

Raising his fist to the door, he knocked lightly.

“Valerie?” 

Axl was greeted with nothing. Not a word, nor a movement. 

He knocked again. 

“Valerie, can I come in?” He asked tentatively. He was prepared to be turned away and, if he was being fully honest, part of him expected to be. He wouldn’t blame her for it.

There was a temporary sound of something shifting. A mattress creaked, her ever-bare feet pattering against the hardwood flooring. The knob turned and the door opened. 

Then, there she was. He saw the blonde of her hair before he saw her face, the features of which were still pointed downwards. When she finally glanced up, her light eyes wide and glazed, the shattering of the heart in his chest was audible. 

“Hey— _Hey_. Can we talk?” 

She sighed before stepping back from the entryway, pulling the door with her. 

Axl was greeted with a stark lightness. Jill had been right. 

The pale walls matched the white of the bedspread and bedding. The furniture was a dark oak but so devoid of knick knacks and customary trinkets that they very well could have been nonexistent. There were two lamps and what could have been a jewelry box, but it was free of the accessories so he couldn’t really tell. 

That was it.

Empty really was the only way to describe it.

It looked like the in-between stage of a room; like when a person had just moved into a place.

Or, like Slash had said, it looked like a space stripped of life because there was _no_ life. 

He didn’t let his gaze linger for long. Any moment longer and she’d know his intentions. 

“You okay?” Axl questioned, furrowing his brow. 

She closed the door and exhaled, nodding. “Yeah. I, uh, I don’t really know what happened there, to be honest.” 

“Yeah, well, Slash is an ass on a good day. He shouldn’t have said that.” He replied, backpedaling until his calves hit the back of her bed. When he sat, he patted the space next to him. 

Valerie chuckled weakly, shaking her head and falling down next to him. 

“No, don’t fuckin’...hold it to him or anything. It’s not a big deal.” She claimed with a sad smile. “I can’t blame him, really. It is depressing, isn’t it?”

As she spoke, her head swiveled around, her hands gesturing to the wide open space around her. 

“Why is it, you know, _this_ way?” 

Valerie shrugged. “Honestly? I’m just not used to the space.” 

“But you’ve been here for two years, yeah?” Axl inquired. The bed beneath him was soft, he traced the roses of her quilt with his finger. 

“Yeah. But growing up where I did, it just wasn’t something I had. And I guess I never really learned what to do with it once I did.” She answered thoughtfully. 

Being unable to unstick the past from the present was a crippling vice, and normally, one he understood extensively. But this was more than just not being used to something. 

This was plainly the result of never being allowed to _have_ things. 

That was too much to unpack in a conversation like this, though. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He replied plainly. At the same time, he remembered the necklace enclosed his fist. 

“Also,” Axl readjusted, pulling the leather jacket from his shoulders and discarding it at his feet. He lifted the jewelry so she could see it, the silver chain glinting in the sunlight.

Instantly, the gloom on her face parted, a miraculous smile overtaking it. 

“Oh, thank God.” Valerie outstretched her hand to collect the piece. Axl could visibly see the stress float away from her in droves. “Where’d you find it?” 

“On the armchair, the one that—” 

“That I sit in after we get home, of course.” She interrupted, groaning to herself and rolling her eyes. His breathing hitched. 

_We_. 

The dangling cross glittered. A larger, less decorative one sat hung around his neck too. 

“What’s the importance of it?” Axl asked, jutting his chin outwards. 

“It’s the last thing my mom gave me.” Valerie replied, her face drifting towards crestfallen once more. He felt his lungs collapse.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” 

She looked up, her face quizzical. “What? Oh, no. That’s _not_ —She’s still alive.” 

“Oh.” He responded. It was phrased as a statement, but confusion thrummed through him. 

“We don’t talk anymore.” Valerie raised the jewelry. “It’s just a keepsake now, I guess.” 

Axl preferred to be isolated from his past. Memories were best served forgotten, he believed. Plus, there was no way of encapsulating anything from home. He figured it worked best that way.

There was a Bible in the bedside drawer of every shitty motel he stayed at anyway. 

But he was trying to repair her spirits and the contents of his brain were much too heavy, so he simply responded, “I get that.” 

“Will you?” Valerie asked, holding out the necklace. After it fell into his hand, she turned her body away from him. 

He stood, sweeping the thick blonde hair from her neck and pushing it over her shoulder. He fumbled with the clasp momentarily, his fingers brushing across the pale, freckled expanse of her skin. 

The sheer intimacy of the moment was enough to weaken his knees. If he tried hard enough, Axl could picture pressing his lips to the back of her neck, down the notches of her spine. 

Everywhere he could, if she let him.

When the latch finally caught, he let go and settled his hands by his side. He dropped back onto the bed, the frame squeaking. 

She spun to face him, every ounce radiating pure happiness. The cross fell between the valley of her breasts, and though he couldn’t before, he now registered its familiarity. 

“Hm,” Axl hummed. “You know, this isn’t quite what I pictured being in your room for the first time would be like.” 

The thought had crossed his mind briefly earlier. Now it was all he could think about. 

Valerie sat back down and laughed, the sound similar to a bird singing its delicate song. “Probably not. But you’re the first guy in here, if it’s any consolation.” 

“It is.” 

God, it wasn’t. 

Oh, how he fucking _ached_.

She blinked slowly, grin fading. “It’s not, I know. I wish things could’ve turned out differently.”

Axl shrugged. He wouldn’t change anything. 

“Don’t say that. Whatever’s meant to happen will.” 

“You don’t fucking believe that.” Valerie retorted.

She was right, he didn’t. If the timing were right, he’d take what he could right now. Perhaps he still could. He could practically feel the shape of her jaw in his hands. His mouth could taste hers. 

Again, she was all he wanted. At the center of everything, was her. 

All he had to do was lean down and—

A sharp rap at the door startled the both of them. Their bodies jumped out of proximity like a fire had been lit. 

“Fuck.” Valerie muttered beneath her breath. “Uh, come in.” 

The door pushed open, presenting a rueful Jill and a hesitant Slash. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jill apologized earnestly. “Slash wouldn’t, _ah_ , drop the topic.”

She stepped aside, giving Slash leeway. His hand was tucked behind his back, his face was kind. 

Axl didn’t know what to expect. He’d done enough damage control for the day. Typically being on the other end of it didn’t help either.

“I just wanted to say sorry for what I said earlier.” 

“Oh,” She breathed. “Don’t worry about it, it’s okay. You’re not the first to comment on my... decor choices.” 

“Still, it was really fuckin’ rude of me to say.” He finished. 

“And,” He strode over to the nearest chest of drawers, heavy boots thumping loudly. Withdrawing his arm, he placed a small blue vase filled with yellow flowers in its center. 

“A token of my apology.” The corner of his lip quirked upwards, “Also, for a bit of color. It _is_ a bit depressing in here.” 

_There it was_. For a moment there, Axl had begun to grow concerned. 

Jill cleared her throat violently. 

“Oh, oops.” Slash stuttered. “Actually, I’m just gonna head out.” 

“That’s probably best.” Axl responded, giving his friend a sharp glare. 

“You too, man.” Slash suggested. “Label called, they wanna discuss an EP or some shit. I don’t fucking know.” 

“Shit, alright. I’ll be there in a minute. Get the other guys.” 

Slash left without a response, Jill quick in following his footsteps. 

“You good here?” Axl asked, looking down at her. He didn’t know how to properly convey his meaning with the door ripped wide open. 

At least he could see that Izzy was up and moving. 

Luckily, she understood and gave him a small smile. “Right, it’s like you said. If it’s meant to happen, it will. Thank you, for everything.” 

“I’ll be back tonight.” Axl promised, plucking his jacket from the floor. 

“I’m counting on it.” 

Then she left. And he was glad to see her go. At least that way he’d get to have the last look. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough. 

_Fuck_. Desire was a bitch. 


	6. tryst.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they go out, debauchery ensues, axl fucks up.
> 
> cw: nsfw.

_ Friday, August 8th, 1986. _

Eventually, July morphed into August. The heat had lost its playfulness, its ambition. The customary excitement of the midyear months had long since worn off, leaving him with a meandering sense of wasted time. 

Axl had always felt that way about the dog days of summer. 

Everything the Californian sun touched was sticky, miserable. It seemed that, no matter where he looked, there was no relief. Nothing to ease the permanent feeling of unrest that had its arms elbow-deep in his brain. 

The constant flow of drugs and alcohol only irritated him further. They made him stir-crazy and on edge. There was an omnipresent itch in his bones that threatened to devour him whole. Being overheated and high was like a continuous, fruitless exercise in wanting to completely shed his own skin. 

And, sure, he was high now.  _ Slightly _ . A fact that, in retrospect, didn’t exactly help his case. But it also wasn’t his fault that Jill’s apartment only had a single air conditioning unit. And it was just coke, too, which usually left him wired no matter the weather. 

So there he lay, sprawled out on the hardwood floor, staring at the ceiling and watching pictures emerge from the blank surface. Valerie lay next to him, the pink cotton of her t-shirt leaving a warm print where it rested against his shoulder. She had one leg thrown over his, which was making everything worse, but he didn’t have the heart to move it. 

Raising his neck marginally, he saw Duff bent over the balcony, smoking a cigarette. His bleached hair was peeled off his neck and pinned against his head with the hand that held the crumpled Marlboro package. 

Slash was passed out on the couch, stomach-up, one arm hanging off the edge. Axl knew that there were several different substances thrumming through his veins; all of which contributed to his ability to fall asleep before his head hit the first cushion. 

That was regardless of the fact that Axl had continually asked the boys to avoid shooting up with anything  _ too _ potent before coming ‘round, of course. 

Not that he expected them to listen, though. They never had before. 

Jill was sat perched in one of the armchairs, fanning herself with one of the coffee table magazines. She looked relatively unaffected by the heat. Not a hair was out of place, make-up utterly un-smudged. 

A grimace formed on Axl’s face, a flare of contempt breeding in his chest. He looked away. 

In recent weeks, Jill had become increasingly difficult to live with. He’d paid rent on time, obviously, which had eased the tension somewhat. Yet, he was still so thoroughly convinced that she was out for his blood. 

Which, if he was being completely honest, didn’t make sense. He was only really living in the apartment for a few hours at time—when he needed to sleep, really—and Jill was never around then. 

In fact, he only saw her when she was off work (Fridays and Saturdays, usually) and when she was out and about with Valerie. If it weren’t for the fact that he was a light sleeper, it would probably only be the latter. 

But he  _ was _ a light sleeper and she liked to make noise in the morning. A lot of it. 

He didn’t want to be the one to intrude on her mornings as, overwhelmingly, he knew it wasn’t his place. However, her strawberry smoothies thrown into a blender paired with her habit of watching the news every morning at a considerable volume inched him closer and closer to losing it entirely.

It wasn’t her job to sacrifice her routine for him, not by a long-shot, but a little consideration would be nice. 

And Axl was aware of the fact that he wasn’t the easiest to live with, too. There were days when he left beer bottles overturned on the floor and forgot to recap the toothpaste. He’d nearly broken her toaster at least twice and he had a proclivity for splaying his discarded clothes over the backs of the armchairs while he slept. 

Worst of all, there’d even been a strung-out groupie or two he’d left spurned that had tracked him down at her apartment. 

(Valerie dealt with them swiftly when Axl couldn’t, but it didn’t erase the lingering look of disgust from Jill’s face or the curious emotion that filled Val’s eyes). 

Both incidents had sent a swift kick of regret to his throat, so powerful that he almost considered quitting the business. It didn’t matter. No matter how hard Axl tried to abstain from the never-ending line of women looking for the makings of a star, he couldn’t. Not for Valerie, not for himself. It was positively fucking pathetic. 

But that wasn’t Jill’s fault and that wasn’t the reason she’d been angering him. 

He couldn’t escape the feeling that she had an unceasing issue with him. One that, to the best of his knowledge, didn’t have  _ that _ much of a concrete foundation. 

Perhaps he hadn’t really done anything, though. Many people found it easy to dislike him on the basis of other, less material items. 

His personality was an excellent starting point for that. 

If that was the case, he really didn’t have an argument. He understood that more than anyone. Axl was actually more surprised when people found him to be approachable than any other alternative. 

Immediately, his brain lost focus on Jill and shifted to Valerie. Her icy blonde hair was splayed in a halo around her head, a dazed smile on her face. There was something about the way she looked at him that sent liquid gold down his spine. 

She wasn’t yet privy to the sludge that filled his brain, but he could tell she knew that there was a certain twinge of darkness there. An irrefutable sense of something slightly twisted, something slightly  _ wrong _ . 

And yet, she came back anyway. Each and every time. 

Axl didn’t know how to give himself away, but Valerie was willing to take what she could and make art of it. 

Suddenly, she picked up her head and leaned her weight onto her forearms, sighing. “Hey, what happened to Steven and Izzy?” 

Axl frowned. “I’m that bad of company, huh.” 

“You and I both know that Izzy barely counts as company.” Valerie retorted, rolling her eyes. “C’mon. At least Steven would hold a decent conversation.” 

He shrugged, seeing her point. “Steven’s out with  _ whatshername _ —that one chick.” 

“The one from last week’s show?” Jill questioned, referencing their latest gig at the Troubadour. 

“Yeah.”

“That was Cheryl, I think.” Valerie confirmed. “The one with the red hair and spider tat? Yeah.” 

“Sure, whatever. Wherever they’re at, they’re banging. Not missing much.” Val’s leg, which still sat on top of his, felt like an anvil dragging his body to the ocean floor. He couldn’t shake its weight. 

“Classy.” Jill muttered. As she spoke, she switched the hand holding the magazine and began to fan herself at a faster speed. To him, the motions were moving so fast it was nearly nauseating. 

“My bad,” Axl rolled his eyes. “Would you prefer I said  _ making love _ ?” 

“You’re disgusting.” Jill scoffed. 

“Thanks.” 

“What about Izzy?” Valerie asked, subtly switching topics. 

“No fucking clue.” He responded, lifting a shoulder. 

“That’s concerning.” Valerie replied. 

Axl hummed to himself. It wasn’t odd for Izzy to go missing for hours—even days—at a time. There were times where they didn’t hear from him for days, only to learn he’d been cooped up in Seattle for no reason other than he felt like it. 

At the same time, Duff walked back into the room, pulling the screen door shut behind him. There wasn’t an ounce of a cross-breeze; the room was enveloped in a heat so dry, nobody could breathe properly. That single, small air-conditioning unit was situated closest to Slash and was currently working itself ragged. If it went out, they were completely fucked. 

“C’mon, guys.” Duff sniffed, pitching himself into the armchair. He sprawled his legs out, the tips of his toes extending all the way to the legs of the coffee table. “There’s gotta be something better to do than just laying around.” 

“Pretty sure Slash’s got some blow.” Axl mused. Duff perked up slightly, but was shot down by the murderous glare on Jill’s face. 

“Jesus, Ax.” Valerie cautioned offhandedly. “Try not making things difficult for once.” 

He smirked. “No can do.”

“Thought I told you guys no drugs?” Jill spoke. Her voice was terse, but tired. Like she was thoroughly disappointed, but not surprised.  _ That _ wasn’t new. 

“Technically, you said no  _ doing _ drugs. Just because he’s got it on him, doesn’t mean he’s gonna snuff it.” Axl corrected. 

“ _ Technically _ ,” Jill mocked, “I think it was pretty clear what I meant.” 

“Okay!” Duff and Valerie said in unison. A strong burst of annoyance hit him square in the abdomen. He tried his best to ignore it. 

Duff looked at the clock on the wall. “Roxy’s probably pickin’ up. We could stop by. It’s late enough, don’t you think?” 

“I don’t know.” Jill doubted. “I might just head in early.” 

“Aw, no, Jill.” Valerie frowned, her eyes widening in sadness.  “You can’t leave me alone with them.” She mock-whispered, hiding behind her hand. 

“That’s for the best.” Duff confirmed, nodding his head gravely. 

Jill sucked on her teeth. “Alright, maybe for an hour or two.” 

“You’re off tomorrow, what does it matter?” Valerie quipped. 

It was Friday night and Valerie was off again. Axl found it strange that Friday and Sunday evenings had so rapidly become his favorite days of the week. 

Jill exhaled, “Oh, what the hell.” 

Valerie jumped up quickly. He watched her go, presumably to shed her oversized t-shirt for a more suitable outfit. He still felt the impression of her leg on his like a too-friendly ghost. 

He sat up and crawled his way to the couch, where Slash lay still fast asleep. Axl reached a hand up and shook his frame. Nothing. He shook harder, gaining a weak grumble; an inkling of an indication that he was still kicking. 

“Wake up, you fucker.” Axl boomed. 

A dazed grunt. Slash’s facial features crinkled slightly. 

“Slash, hey.” He jerked him harshly. In response, Slash’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, they searched around desperately before coming to rest on Axl. Then, his lip peeled up in disgust. 

“Son of a bitch.” The curly-haired man muttered, propping himself up. “What time is it?” 

“9:30. You’ve been out for three hours.” Axl responded, picking himself up off the floor. He grabbed an abandoned beer bottle from the coffee table and downed its dregs. 

_ Ugh _ . Warm. 

“Shit, really?” Slash threw his legs over the edge of the couch. There was no customary heavy thud of his boots. Jill had made him toe them off at the front door. “Sick. What’re we up to?” 

“Gonna head down to the Roxy.” Duff answered. 

Slash nodded in acknowledgement. “What are we waiting for? Steven?” 

Axl titled his chin towards the closed bedroom doors. “Gettin’ ready.”

“Just Val?” If Axl wasn’t hallucinating, he could have sworn there was a twinge of dread in his tone; boredom. He felt something momentarily rear its ugly head, utterly unbelieving that Slash would be so brash in his audacity. 

Not that Axl, himself, had too good of a track record with Val as of late. 

“S’that a problem?” He frowned, voice sharp. 

Slash mumbled something inaudibly. 

“What? No. Fuck no. It’s just that Jill doesn’t get to come out with us all too often.” He replied, looking up. His thick curls were falling into his eyes, no matter how many times he manually pushed them back with his hands. 

“I think we hang out plenty.” He shot back, unable to keep the contempt from lacing his tone. 

Really, it seemed as though it was  _ too difficult _ to get Valerie on her own. Joined at the hip those two most definitely were. 

“Careful.” Duff warned. He dealt out a pointed glare. 

Axl sighed, but conceded. “Yeah, they’re both comin’.” 

“Cool.” was all Slash said. The topic dropped itself. 

While they waited, he moved to pick up all of the empty beer bottles and lined them up at the sink. Valerie had a recycling regiment so strict that she borderline harassed the boys about it. He found it was much easier to comply with her wishes than it was with Jill’s. 

That was most likely one hundred percent a conscious decision, however. 

Slash had wandered to the doormat and was working on lacing up his boots. His absence on the couch made room for the dozens of throw pillows, which Duff pieced back together. He seemed to be the only one who cared enough to remember their placement. Which sucked, because Axl would only have to throw them off again when he went to lie down the next time. 

Eventually, Jill emerged from her room. She had removed her yellow dress and replaced it with a white one. Her hair was left down her back and fluffed to the heavens. In her ears were another set of obnoxious, dangling earrings. This time, a pair of orange slices. 

“Glad to see you’re awake.” she smiled at Slash, pulling a set of chunky, ugly heels from beside the door. 

Slash didn’t say anything, but grinned in response. Or maybe he did, Axl was no longer paying attention. Simultaneously, Valerie’s door opened. His brain disconnected from reality and jumped headfirst into whatever glamourized aura she had crafted for the moment. 

Her dress was black, short, and tight. The sight of it made waves of electricity course through his veins. Bursts of pure wanting,  _ pure lust _ , pulsated beneath his skin. 

The dress left almost nothing to the imagination. But Axl still thought it left too much. A personal problem he’d have to sort out later, he imagined. 

Temporarily, he felt words leave him. He didn’t think there were any words in existence that could convey the way his heart wanted to leap from his chest and entwine itself with hers. 

He assumed his silence had become a bit suspicious, given that he could hardly peel his gaze from her outline. He was so thoroughly distracted that he neglected to feel anything when Duff came to his rescue with a low whistle. What should have been a sharp sense of some scathing emotion—jealousy, probably—was... _ nothing _ . She just had that goddamn effect on him. 

“And now we are….severely underdressed.” Duff commented, placing the final pillow in its place. 

“At least you’re dressed.” Jill returned, shrugging.

“A difficult task for you guys, we know.” Val added, shoving her feet into a pair of black heels. 

“Most chicks dig that, you know.” Slash said. He leaned against the door, struggling to keep himself upright. It’d take a few fingers of Jack for him to regain that skill. 

Axl shook his head, shifting his focus back on track.“We’re leaving, let’s go.” 

He made a beeline for the door, pulling it open and uprooting Slash from his spot roughly. If they didn’t leave now, he didn’t think they would at all. 

* * *

There was an overly hairsprayed tribute band playing on the stage. 

Alright, they weren’t actually a tribute band, but their riffs were recycled and the setlist was so riddled with Crüe covers, they practically were. 

As far as covers went, Axl acknowledged that he didn’t have too much of a leg to stand on. But then again, his were actually good. 

And he was sure if he heard another wrong-pitch screech rip itself from the lead singer’s chest, he’d have an aneurysm, so he turned from the stage and busied himself with sorting out the crowd. 

The floor was packed with writhing dancers. Girls in multi-colored dresses rode up to their hips, held up by hands that belonged to men clad in leather and faux-torn fabrics. Everything smelt faintly of cheap tequila and department store fragrances; there wasn’t a sober face in sight. 

Not on the floor, not on stage, and certainly not on him. 

Axl was currently half-way through a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. It wasn’t his, of course, but he had no problem prying it from behind the counter every time the bartender looked away for more than a second. 

There was an uncomfortable emotion stirring in his stomach. Something untamed, something unnamed. It felt thick and lethargic in his veins, like it was struggling to stay confined. He was so tired of feeling this way. 

Yet, he felt powerless in his attempts to mitigate it. 

Across the way, Axl watched Valerie on the floor. She was dancing with Jill and a few other girls that he’d never seen before. It didn’t appear that they knew each other, but that was rarely a problem. With one hand, she held up her glittering blonde strands, the other holding a glass full of sloshing vodka. 

She was pressed up against the bodies of the other girls—so intimately close—that a new pang of envy struck him. Not because she was devoting her attention to the girls, per se, but because he couldn’t be the one to hold her like that, to know her in such a casually visceral way. 

He wanted to place his hands on her hips and have the weight of her back pushed up against his chest, shifting in time to the erratic drumbeat. To have the slick pieces of her hair thrown over his shoulder, so carelessly done that nothing but the overpowering scent of her lavender shampoo could fill his senses. 

Axl wanted the pressure of her hands atop his, the sharp red-lacquered nails digging purchase into the skin they found there. 

And the thing was, he was almost entirely certain he could walk over there and take what he wanted. After all, if Valerie hadn’t wanted to spend time with him, she wouldn’t have come out tonight, right? 

It was so unlike him to hesitate. In fact, his inability to do so was what usually ran him into suffering. 

He was just so afraid of... _ a lot  _ when it came to her. 

Axl couldn’t bear the thought of scaring her off, not after they had made so much progress. He was just about nearing satisfaction with the way he was around her. Messing that up had dozens of unfathomable consequences that it just wasn’t a gamble he was willing to take yet. 

So, for now, he merely watched from afar. Like some twisted angel circling overhead. 

Torturously, he kept his eyes locked on the sharp crimson of her lips. Every few verses, they would part and accommodate a slew of shouted lyrics, only to quickly seal themselves back into their customary pout. The dark shadow of her eye make-up beneath the shifting strobes only served to drag him in further. He could tangibly imagine himself getting lost in the blackened lining that surrounded the piercing grey of her irises like a painted warning. She was almost feline in the way her upturned eyes drifted shut every few seconds to reveal a soft, undisturbed face. 

Truly, it was a new kind of a beauty; a lethal one. 

In the center of the floor, she radiated like the sun; only hotter and twice as dangerous. 

God, he couldn’t intrude on that. He  _ wouldn’t _ . 

It was by some odd stroke of luck that Duff pulled himself to Axl’s side and created an opportune distraction.

“Hey, man.” Duff hollered over the music. With a quick finger, he ushered the bartender over and gestured his order before turning back to Axl. “I was talking to the manager and it seems like they’ve got a few slots open in the coming weeks for a gig. That sound cool?” 

“Yeah, sounds great. You’ll have to remind me tomorrow, though.” Axl swiveled his head around, looking for the barcrew. 

When the coast was clear, he jumped over the counter and regained a hold on the neck of the Johnnie Walker Blue. After passing a hearty swig between both Duff and himself, he decided not to return it, and kept it gripped tight by his thigh. Effectively out of sight. 

“That’s fine.” Duff returned, pausing to down a few shots of vodka. “Why aren’t you out there?” 

“Not feeling it.” Axl mumbled. That was positively untrue, of course. The coke that still ran in his system had him practically wanting to jump from his bones. 

“Bullshit. Wouldn’t have dragged you here if I knew you were gonna pull an Iz. At least go sit with Slash if you’re gonna be so goddamn depressing.” The blonde man asserted, pointing to the booths behind him. There, Axl could see a slouched Slash, bent over the back of the booth with a girl on his lap.

“I’d rather fucking die, thanks.” 

Duff laughed. “Come on. Go dance with Val or something.” 

Axl shrugged, his shoulders feeling sluggish. “She’s busy. I guess I’ll go find another girl or something. There’s gotta be one bored enough around here.” 

“You gotta be careful with that one, man.” Duff warned. “Considering you’re livin’ with them.” 

Axl frowned softly before a disgusted look morphed over his features. “Jesus fuck, dude. I’m not gonna bring her home with me.” 

The taller man swallowed another shot before replying, “No, but I heard there’s been an issue or two.” 

“I’ve got it under control.” He maintained sharply.

Duff raised his hands widely. “I know you do. Just...lookin’ out for you, that’s all.” 

Axl nodded. “Whatever. I need a fuckin’ smoke. I’ll be back.” 

Without waiting for Duff’s response, he turned on his heel and made his way to the exit. 

The night air was cool, albeit muggy. It surrounded him like a hug. One that he wanted to shake off desperately. 

A minute or two was wasted trying to find a stretch of wall that wasn’t occupied by a pair of lovers fucking or a group of men congregating. The area was hectic, bustling. 

He gave up his search and set off towards the building on the other side of the street. Extracting a cigarette and a lighter, his back hit the stone exterior. 

He stood for a while, only moving when it was time to exhale. And even then, just barely. Too many things were on his mind; gigs, this month’s rent, the random poem he’d been constructing earlier that week, Valerie. 

Always Valerie. 

She was like a song that had stuck it sickly sweet lyrics and cutting melody to the edges of his brain. Axl wanted to spend the rest of his life playing it. 

The cigarette reached its stub before he was ready to go in. Quickly, he replaced it with a fresh one and sparked it. 

Through the haze of smoke, he watched a girl approach him from across the street. She had permed raven hair and was wearing a small blue dress, the straps of which were slipping off her shoulders. 

Even so, she was relatively stable in her matching stilettos and had her eyes dead-set on him. 

This was more his speed. It was akin to a language he spoke, something he understood. Not having to think about what he said to a girl, well, that was just what it used to be. 

“Hey,” the woman spoke, stopping to stand in front of him. “You with the band?” 

Axl tilted his neck, smirking around the cigarette. “What band?” 

“The one on stage, silly. You sure look like it.” Her eyes were caught on the silver chains that sat atop his partially bare chest. 

“If I was a part of the band, I’d be on stage, wouldn’t I?” He returned apathetically. 

“Well, if you were inside you’d know they were taking a break.” The girl stated, throwing her curls over one shoulder and pouting her pink lips. “You play though, don’t you? You can’t tell me you ain’t a part of something dressed like that.” 

Hesitantly, he nodded. Strangely, he was pleased with the way she could deduce as much from his appearance. “Guns N’ Roses. Heard of us?” 

“Sure I have. I’ve seen you play once or twice, too.” 

His eyebrows rose. He'd had his fair share of groupie encounters but rarely anything so unrelated to a performance. Usually, he would call it unfair to so presumptuously label her such, but judging by the physical pride she painted across her features, he reserved it. It was clear that she had, essentially, struck gold with whatever personal mission she had been trying to achieve.

_ Ah, well _ . 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Axl asked. Intentionally, he pushed his voice deeper, utterly satisfied when she widened her grin in response. 

“Angie.” 

“I’m—” 

“Axl, I know. Of course, I recognize you now.” 

He stubbed his cigarette beneath his boot and stepped closer to her. “Well, would you look at that? What do you say about maybe gettin’ out of here, Angie?” 

Anything to escape the sheer torture that had become reality inside the Roxy. 

If she accepted, he was  _ so  _ going to regret this in the morning. 

Angie giggled and pulled herself towards him. He could smell the alcohol on her breath. “My girls and I have a room saved in the motel down the road, it should be empty for the rest of the night.” 

Axl smiled. He had unintentionally found himself a one-way ticket to the best distraction in town. “Sounds good to me, honey. Lead the way.” 

Angie laughed again. It was a girlish sound, high-pitched. 

Pocketing the Marlboro package, he regained an even tighter hold on the whiskey. In her footsteps, he followed. He could hardly remove his eyes from the way her ass looked in the dress. 

The only thing he looked forward to more than  _ that _ was the fact that he was able to put the Roxy and its inhabitants behind him for at least an hour or two. Fucking finally.

* * *

By the time they reached her room, he was unable to talk himself down from whatever metaphorical ledge he was dangerously teetering on. 

It was either this or walking himself back to Roxy, filled to the brim with shame.

Angie latched her lips onto his, solidifying his decision. She was an acceptable kisser, putting her entire body into the effort.

Once she had finally located the keys and unlocked the door, he gathered her into his arms. Carrying her over to the bed, he pressed her against it roughly. His lips covered her neck, jaw, chest, anything they could reach. 

He cinched the soft fabric of her dress up above her waist, exposing a pair of lace underwear. Her arm was thrown over his neck, in her hands the pair of heels. As she moaned softly, she hitched her thighs around his waist and squeezed hard. 

Axl grappled for the zipper on her dress, fumbling blindly until he felt his fingers catch onto the metal piece. Belligerently, he tore it downwards. 

“Careful, babe.” Angie purred as she squirmed her way out of the ensemble. “This is my best dress.” 

Simultaneously, she threw his jacket over his shoulders, running her fingers down his arms. With guidance from the moonlight, she paused to rake her eyes over the string of tattoos that dotted his arms. 

He couldn’t help but think back to the way he’d imagined Val’s hands on him earlier that evening.  _ Shit _ .

His pattern of thoughts changed so quickly, he’d have assumed he was possessed. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking of her. He should be thinking of anything  _ but her _ . 

To distract himself, he broke away to discard his t-shirt. Angie quickly disregarded the ink and focused her devotion to pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses to his chest. 

Axl reached down to her hips, grazing his hands over the soft skin he found there, then gripping them tightly. Angie squealed in delight, trying her best to raise her pelvis to meet his. It was entirely in vain, however; he held it down and wrapped his fingers around the band of her underwear, quickly ripping them in half. 

“Hope this wasn’t a best pair.” He mused sarcastically, tossing the scrap of fabric and relinquishing his pressure of her body. 

She gasped before laughing. “You fucker.” 

_ It almost sounded like— _

Harshly, he pulled her jaw up to meet his, devouring it in a kiss. If he didn’t see her, he didn’t have to see anything. 

Axl was content to have her there for a while. His lips on hers, his hand between her thighs. It wasn’t difficult to discover what she liked and what she didn’t, either. That always made things easier. Angie liked it when he was soft and whined when he got too rough. 

But even so, she could make it overwhelmingly obvious when things weren’t enough. He quickly worked on pulling off his pants, momentarily struggling with the laced-up front of the leather. 

When he clambered onto the springy mattress, he pushed himself up against the headboard. She crawled to him on her hands and knees, her expression entirely seductive. Any other day and he’d be a  _ goner _ . 

So why couldn’t he get his fucking act together tonight? 

Angie threw a leg on either side of him, straddling him. She ground against his thigh, muttering little bursts of sweet nothings into his ears, which he responded to with appropriately timed grunts and exclamations. 

He was going fucking crazy. That was it. What else was new, though? 

At some point, she had started riding him. There was no sort of foreplay, no instance of her hand on him. Axl was so caught up with the feeling of her breasts in his hands that he’d hardly noticed. 

Yet, Angie was unabashedly loud, which made the transition hard to ignore. It also served well to drown out the incessant thud of the heart in his throat.

God, he wanted so badly to enjoy her. But he couldn’t stop thinking of Valerie. 

_ Fuck _ . He was going straight to hell. 

A few minutes later, after Angie had peaked with an ear-piercing scream, he felt a burst of relief so thick, he could’ve passed out. He could go home now and forget this ever happened. 

Or maybe, they were all still at the bar and he could slip in undetected. Axl briefly wondered if Val had registered his absence. He hoped not. 

Angie rolled her tanned limbs off of him, flopping down onto the mattress. Pulling the sheets up over her hips, she did little to contain the splitting grin that covered her face. 

“Just give me a minute.” Angie requested, squeezing his wrist. 

“Huh?” Axl mumbled confusedly, pushing back his sweat-soaked hair from his face. 

“You didn’t finish.” She stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Oh,” He muttered. “Don’t worry about it. It usually takes me a couple rounds.” 

That was a lie. But he didn’t exactly want to mention how he had to suppress his thoughts in order to keep his sanity in check. 

“That’s fine. I’ll be good to go again in a few.” She rose, presumably to use the bathroom. “There’s blow on the table, if that’s your thing. I don’t care if you smoke either.” 

Well, that wasn’t what he anticipated would happen. In all honesty, he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to get hard again. The mental stress had deflated any sense of physical desire. 

What a fucking ideal situation.

Yet, he much preferred this stripped-down Angie. It didn’t seem as though she was putting up much of a show any longer. Whether that was because she had gotten what she’d wanted out of the night or not, Axl didn’t want to dwell. 

When she finally disappeared out of sight, he stumbled over to the coffee table to find that there were indeed a few preset lines situated on the table. Axl didn’t normally like the way he felt under the influence, but he certainly preferred the way he acted.

Haphazardly, he got down on his knees. Neglecting any sort of device, he pressed one nostril closed and snuffed the line in one go. 

And then a second. 

Instantly, it took effect. The fluttering euphoria drifted its way down his body. Tension leaked from his body, replaced with a curious floatiness. 

So dramatic was the change that, when a bare-skinned Angie rejoined him, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her body and pull her close. 

There was nothing to worry about now, because not a single thought even reached his brain. 

“See,” She smiled against his lips. “That was all you needed.” 

Dragging him back to bed, she yanked him down on top of her. She wound her legs back around his pale hips, threading her fingers through the matted red strands of his hair. 

Axl wrapped a soft hand around her thigh and tried everything again. He entered her with a groan, holding himself still as she adjusted to the size of him. It was easier than it’d been the first time. And felt better, as well. She was hot, wet, and tight and she gripped him in an ironclad grasp that he didn’t  _ want _ to escape from. 

He liked this position better, too; it gave him better control over himself and the situation. 

Angie dug her nails into his back, bringing her mouth up to his ear. “Faster, Rose.” 

In response, he increased the speed of his thrusts, smirking at the untamed chain of grunts and moans that lifted from her chest. 

“That’s more like it, huh, baby?” Angie murmured in staccato beats, biting down on her lip before throwing her head back in ecstasy.

Suddenly and uncontrollably, he watched her features morph. The dark, tight curls of her hair loosened and lightened to that familiar white-blonde, fanning out over the pillows as it grew in length. Her jaw sharpened, her hips thinned. Even the tone of her moans shifted, lowered. 

Furiously, he blinked. 

When they reopened, Angie was back. 

Only, then she wasn’t. Angie’s brown eyes, locked into his, drained themselves into a piercing silver. He grunted angrily and bent down to kiss her neck, moving his hips faster. The noise they made was obscene, but it did little to drown out the horrors that his mind was creating.

Nothing helped. For the life of him, Axl couldn’t scour the outline of  _ her _ face from behind his eyes nor the feeling of her delicate hands scratching down his back. He felt so disjointed he was nearly beside himself. 

He just wanted to be done and go home. 

If he could even find the mental stamina to do so, that is. He was nearly certain he’d never be able to look Valerie in the eye again. 

Fuck, this was so  _ humiliating _ . 

With a final series of over-exaggerated grunts, he finished. Luckily, in tandem with her. After he slowly pulled out he, at once, untangled his limbs from hers and jumped from the bed. Collecting himself, he realized how quickly he had come down from whatever high he’d thought he’d been on. 

Fuck this.

He shoved himself into the legs of his pants, replaced his shirt, and gathered his jacket. Axl wanted to get out—he could feel the urge creeping at him desperately. Casting one final glance over the room, he wasn’t even disheartened to see that Angie had fallen asleep; her cheek resting on one outstretched arm. 

Really, she was an extraordinarily beautiful girl. One of a soft, gentle allure. And she truly hadn’t been too bad of a lay. 

It was entirely his fucking fault his mind was so deeply entrenched in the gutter. 

Closing the door behind him, he withdrew a cigarette and the lighter from his jacket pocket. Hungrily, he craved any sort of comfort it might bring as he half-heartedly faced the walk home to the girls’ apartment. 

Like the rising sun, a heavy weight made of solid guilt followed him all the way home. It was about halfway through the walk when he remembered the bottle of Johnnie-Walker Blue, left overturned at her bedside. 

_ Oh well. _

* * *

Jill and Val’s white-brick building was like an oasis in the middle of the desert. 

He’d been walking for a half an hour, most of which was spent actually crashing from the high. 

Manifesting in the form of complete exhaustion, it was as though he had gone from full battery to utterly drained of life in the matter of minutes. Axl could hardly feel his limbs, too, and really, there was nothing more he wanted than to shove himself straight into the overly firm cushions of Jill’s couch and forget his corporeal existence. He didn’t even think he’d mind the extra throw pillows, if he was being honest. He was  _ that _ dead on his feet. 

Axl questioned if a good enough night’s sleep would be able to erase the horrors that had just transpired. But coming down was always a tricky, fickle thing. There was a reason he didn’t fucking play around with drugs and this was exactly it.

Taking that same elevator ride to the tenth floor was always a buzzkill. Except, it was made infinitely worse by the presence of an elderly couple who possibly believed that staring holes into his side profile would be enough to get his attention. 

Luckily, another effect of coming down was irritability. He was more than proficient in that area.

“Is there a problem?” Axl asked, not even looking in their direction. 

“Not at all.” The man replied, tipping his hat in response. Axl sneered, but didn’t pivot his head in their directions.  _ Floor 4.  _

There was a pause, then: “Are you on something, young man?” 

He wondered what gave it away. Was it the severely disheveled appearance, his inability to stand on his own, or the fact that uncontrollable jitters were racking his body at random intervals?  _ Floor 7. _

He glanced down at her, internally cringing at the way she flinched. 

“I was earlier, ma’am.” His voice was sarcastic and cruel. “I’d happily tell you all about it if I wasn’t so sure your heart would give out in your chest.” 

His own was beating so fast he thought he’d be able to give her a run for her money. 

Axl didn’t give them time to respond, only drinking in their shocked expressions before launching himself off the wall and into the hallway as soon as the metal doors parted. 

Raking his fingers through his tangled hair, he pulled the key ring from his pocket and popped open the door. Sleep was so close he could practically taste it. He could see the couch only feet away,  _ empty _ —

Jill cut into his field of sight. She had changed into a pair of light blue pajamas, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Raising his eyes to her face, he was unsurprised to find an expression of disappointment etched into her features. 

“I’m fucking clean. We can argue about this,” He glanced at the clock on the far wall, “in eight hours.” Axl stated bitterly, shouldering his way past her. 

“No.” Jill responded in an even tone. “I think we need to talk now.”

He threw himself onto the couch. “Fuck off, no we don’t. I’m fucking tired.” 

“And you don’t think I’m not? If you’re not at the goddamn table in ten seconds, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” He cut her off. “Kick me out?”

Extending her arms so that they fell at her sides, she exhaled gently. “Just,  _ please _ . It’ll be quick.”

Axl huffed but dragged himself to the table nonetheless, planting himself directly across from where she sat. 

“Where were you?” She asked, placing her folded set of hands before her. 

“It’s none of your business.” He shot back.

“You disappeared halfway through the night. I’m not a fucking idiot. Where were you?” She repeated. Her voice remained sturdy, but he sensed a note of something darker in her words. 

“Why do you care so much? It doesn’t involve you.” Axl testified. 

Splices of the night’s events were haunting him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Valerie’s body beneath his, writhing. He saw Angie’s too, screaming as she morphed into some green-scaled woman with snakes for hair and blackened pits for eyes. 

Axl could hardly decipher reality from whatever hellscape hallucinated fantasy he’d just acted out. Holy shit.

“Listen,” Jill seethed. 

Yeah, it was definitely anger that lined her voice. 

“You’re right. I don’t care what you do with your free time or where you stick your dick. In fact, I would  _ so _ rather be ignorant.” 

Axl opened his mouth to argue. With a cutting motion of her hand, he was quieted. He was so void of energy that he couldn’t fight it. Soundbites of both Angie and Valerie’s voices wavered at the forefront of his brain. 

“But you know who  _ does _ care? Val.” Jill autofilled. 

“There’s no way she knows—” 

“She doesn’t,” She confirmed. Solace gripped his shoulders like a vice. “But she can and will, if you pull a stunt like that again.” 

It was a type of anger that reminded him of the calm before the storm. A false sense of safety, moreso. He was never naïve enough to overlook her rage, even if it was subtle. The complete chill in her voice was enough to send a new wave of regret crashing beneath his skin. 

Axl dropped his voice to a deadly whisper. “You wouldn’t fucking tell her. We’re not even a thing.” 

A sadder, wistful look covered her face. “You know she asked for you all night, right?” 

He pulled back, feeling stones crash to the pit of his stomach. Axl was nearly sure getting shot in the face by his own bullet would hurt less. 

“Duff and I had to lie, say you were busy arranging a gig with the manager, you ass.” She elaborated. “Only reason she believed us was because she saw Duff talkin’ to the same guy earlier.”

He couldn’t explain to Jill how deeply he regretted everything that had happened in the past few hours. How badly he wanted to go back and reject Angie— _ nothing personal, of course _ —and instead walk back into the Roxy. To take Val by the shoulder and pull her up against his chest, like he had so vividly pictured. 

Furthermore, he couldn’t explain to her that, despite choosing to sleep with Angie, not a single part of him  _ but _ his body was devoted to it. (Ironically, not really even then). 

Axl couldn’t even trick himself into believing that it was just a quick fuck, though. His decision to use Angie as a distraction had been deliberate, but he’d thought that would have been the most influence that Valerie would have had on the situation. 

He hadn’t known that he was going to see her, feel her, hear her. There was no fathomable explanation for how he could  _ taste _ something he had never tried. And yet… 

At his extended silence, Jill snapped her finger. “How wasted are you?” 

He rubbed at his eyes with his palms. “I told you, I’m clean.” 

_ Partially _ . 

“And I’m completely, one hundred percent sober.” 

Axl still didn’t respond. 

“Let’s try this, then. I’m giving you a choice.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Jill bristled. “No, you don’t get to talk to  _ me _ like that. You either listen to what I have to say or start packing your bags.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that my big ultimatum? Because I choose option C.” 

“Which is?” 

“Fuck you.” 

She rolled her eyes, recrossing her arms. She was ridiculously difficult to argue with; giving him little to no ammunition. 

“Here it is. You can either drop the groupies or you drop Val.” 

“Okay,  _ definitely _ fuck you.” Axl spit back, raising from the chair unsteadily. White bursts of light danced in front of his vision.

“Take it or leave it, Axl. I’m not just going to sit by and watch you play with her heart for no reason other than you feel like you can. There’s a line and I’m drawing it.” 

He reached out a hand to steady himself. “Why don’t you just let me handle my life?” 

“Yeah, because you’re doing that so successfully.” Jill spoke, flicking her eyes downwards at his borderline convulsing form. “Here’s the thing, Valerie went to sleep tonight thinking the world of you. And she’s gonna wake up thinking the same thing. It drives me crazy that you choose to ignore how plainly she wants you, but, you know, whatever. I figure that’s something the two of you have got handled. But if she were to find out what you spent tonight doing,” 

She shook her head tersely. “Her heart would be crushed and that would be it.” 

“I’m not trying to hurt her.” He stated calmly. 

Hell, the idea that he could be the one to hold her heart in his hands was almost too much to bear. Axl knew, deep down, that he was more of a ticking time-bomb than he was a man. Something so ornately precious as Valerie’s heart didn’t belong to him. 

How badly he  _ wanted _ it, though. 

“Then, please, just act like it.” 

By then, the sun was up entirely and the fight had left him. He was a shell of himself, running on some energy source that he wasn’t sure actually existed. Autopilot failed him. He braced for a crash landing. 

Simply, he nodded. 

Then, he pushed off the table and headed straight for the couch. The evergreen cushions seemed to be softer than any bed he’d ever laid upon. 

“And, Axl?” Jill called quietly. 

He groaned dramatically, not bothering to untuck his head from where it was buried in the pillows. 

“We can keep this between us, because I know where your intentions lie. Just...keep what I said in mind, okay?” 

Axl knew she wasn’t the type of person to get mad nor revel in the fact that she had upset him. Purely based on the fact that she worked to diffuse the situation and offer reassurance as soon as she said her piece. 

It would take him several days, maybe weeks, to readjust to the implications of everything she had said that morning, but the sentiment was sweet. Still, he was at a loss for how to respond, so he just grunted in response. 

Moments later, he heard the door of her bedroom click shut. That seemed to have been enough. 

Finally he allowed his eyes to drift shut. There Valerie was again, only this time, it was the figure that usually accompanied him. It was the devilish, quizzical Val that he was already acquainted with. This shade of Val was the one she had so far allowed him to know. Because of that, it was his favorite. 

Regardless, he knew that the visions from earlier wouldn’t disappear for a while, not completely. If anything, he almost believed it was some sort of divine punishment. And, if that’s what he deserved, Axl was okay with that. 

However, at several points during the morning, something had him awaking in a cold sweat so thick he truly did think his heart was giving out. Even though the drugs had long since worn off, he couldn’t escape the potential notion that he was tiptoeing on death’s door. 

It disturbed him thoroughly.

Because as the dreams started, he could no longer draw the line between the contents of a heated, coke-fueled paranoia and his true desires, unfiltered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading <333!!


	7. an intolerable tenderness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> his musings on his muse.

_ Thursday, August 14th, 1986. _

He always chose the same stool up by the counter at Shirley’s. The third to the end, in the spot that was situated right before the tabletop made a curve. The seat was a light blue vinyl and was cracked in several places, but it was his. A worn throne, of sorts. 

They had just inched into Thursday, the sky still opaque in its darkness. From his spot, he could see the spiraling light bulbs and neon signs that pointed with all of their might to the various establishments of the Strip. Axl was nearly sure that about half of his band was spread out amongst the various bars and clubs, two thirds of the way to completely wasted. 

Uncharacteristically, he felt no inkling of longing or desire to trade places. He was entirely sober—for now—and wholly content; it didn’t matter that his ass was aching from sitting rooted in the same spot for what was rounding on two hours. 

Axl supposed he was in a better place than Val, though. She had spent the larger sum of her shift alternating between walking from table to table and standing behind the counter, the same old rag clutched tight in her small hand. 

Nearly a week had passed since his minor breakdown by the Roxy. In the meantime, he had been suffering drastically internally. The sights his mind produced never really went away. They didn’t discriminate in their visits, either, appearing both during his waking hours and within his dreamscapes. It always left him drowning in a cold-sweat, oppressive feelings of guilt and liability scraping the cavities of his body open with a saw-toothed blade. 

He knew it was almost entirely because he was so remorseful that he was chained down by the phantoms of his mind, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to take a soup spoon and pluck his eyeballs from their sockets everytime her bare figure danced into his cloud of sight. 

He felt so goddamn disgusting, all the time. 

Yet, contrary to his own assumptions, Axl was surprised to find that actually spending time with Valerie proved to be not much of a struggle. Not physically, at least. (Mentally, he still hadn’t recovered.) 

Perhaps it was just having her corporeal figure as a breath of sensibility, so wildly different from the unreachable siren of his nightmares, that served to keep him on track. Because he found that, when he really wanted to, he could behave quite well. 

Well enough that he didn’t think she suspected much of a difference in his behaviors, he guessed. In fact, he thought that she had looked pleased with the sight of him when he’d first entered. 

Axl had wandered in, the electric dinging of the overhead bell being the only sound announcing his entrance. Valerie had been bent behind the hostess’ pedestal, sifting through the box of children’s crayons, when she peeked her head up. A brilliant, blinding smile struck down on her features at once, rendering him incapable of giving much more than a head nod and a terribly casual  _ Hey _ . 

She jumped up from her spot, bubbling to the surface. Shirley’s had been empty then, like it was now, and it was clear she’d been going crazy with boredom. Even though, according to his watch, her shift had only started thirty minutes prior. 

Not that he kept track nor timed his arrivals, that was. 

In the two hours that passed since then, she filled him in on every detail he missed. Which, when added up together, turned out to be a detailed recounting of the three orders she’d taken and the burger she’d eaten for lunch. 

Val was never bashful over her habit of telling him random tidbits of things that were entirely inconsequential. That was one of Axl’s favorite things about her. He liked listening to her talk. He figured he could do it undisturbed for years on end. 

He had recently come to realize that when you walked around like a rockstar—acted and talked like one, too—it narrowed down the ways people interacted with you greatly. Axl knew he wasn’t much of anything, not yet anyhow, but the budding of a status was still there. And, often, it kept him from feeling entirely like a functional fucking person. 

Men were only interested in the music. It was a part of him, of course, but one that could be easily detachable. There were times that the music represented him to the deepest layer of his being and others were he was so far removed, playing it was akin to an out-of-body experience. 

Sometimes those clashing experiences were simultaneous.

Women, luckily, were focused more on the body behind the art. But, then again, only for a select part. 

Though, that wasn’t too much of a stressor. He’d be a hypocrite to claim otherwise. Still, it made existence an arduous challenge at times. Axl was sick of people claiming his desirable bits and pieces while rejecting  _ him _ . 

So, yeah, Axl liked hearing about her day. Sure, it was cool that he could have the privilege to read her like an open book; but what really got him, what  _ really _ set his insides ablaze, was the notion that she deemed him an acceptable vessel for the throwaway guts of her mind. When Val was comfortable enough to talk his ear off about the monotony, it was a consolation. 

To be deemed worthy of a person’s internal intricacies was something he’d never had before. Wanting to know what made her tick, wanting to pick her brain apart gear by gear, it all was interconnected with knowing the smallest, most mundane factors about her. He’d take them all hungrily. Greedily. For as long as she let him. 

“You getting any work done there?” came her voice from behind him. 

He threw his head over his shoulder fractionally, throwing her a quick smirk. Turning back to the scattered pieces of paper strewn in front of him, he absorbed the partially blank pages. Most of which were crumpled by his own hands and marked with coffee rings. 

Axl was pretty sure Valerie thought he was busy crafting a new set of lyrics. In all fairness, though, he couldn’t blame her. That’s what he’d told her. 

In reality, however, the past several nights had been spent devoted to the beginning stages of a simple poem. 

_ Simple _ was a term used loosely in this instance, given that the piece had been driving him up the wall slowly since its conception. It was currently stuck in its tracks, at a seemingly perpetual dead end. 

The words were dedicated, of course, to the only breathing soul in existence that could coax his brain and body into going haywire concurrently. Where she went, inspiration seemed to gather and spill itself at his feet. Axl could feel an untapped well in his brain that she practically dangled over. But when he went to crack open its contents—put his pen to the paper, moreso—he came up empty. Like a drought had struck without his knowledge.

The first stanza was mostly pieced together but it died soon after. The task of putting his thoughts into words was a fruitless exercise in wanting to rip apart the lobes of his brain with bleeding fingers. 

Even worse, the idea of putting his  _ feelings _ into words was just...entirely hopeless; a pure pipe dream. 

He looked up at her, away from the blurring ink. 

“Are you?” Axl retorted.

She snorted and shrugged. “What’s it look like?”

“A fuckin’ waste of a night.” He deadpanned. “Nobody’s even here, why do you have to always be moving? Can’t you just sit for a moment?” 

Axl patted the stool next to him. 

“What’s that saying?” She wondered aloud.  “Idle hands are the devil’s playthings…?” A mock gag and then, “My boss hates it when I’m standing around doing nothing. It is, apparently, unprofessional.” 

“That’s bullshit. You work at a two-star diner. Not the Ritz.” 

“First, we’re a proud three-star establishment, Second, take it up with Ed.” Val smiled. 

Bending over the edge of the counter, she placed her jaw in her hands. 

Axl moved to spin his chair. The seat squeaked through years of rust. “Not a problem, where’s his office?” 

Reaching out to grab onto his wrist, she narrowed her eyes into slits. “Do it and see what happens.” 

“C’mon, don’t be that kinda girl.” He jokingly pleaded. 

Axl was nearly one hundred percent sure that, if he walked into Ed’s office right now, he could crack some skulls. 

Valerie’s lip curled up. “What kinda girl?” 

Her hand was like an iron shackle around him. If she decided to splinter the bones she held there, he wouldn’t notice. 

“The kind that won’t let some guy help ‘em just because.” 

The idea that he was just  _ some guy _ to her was a deliciously heartbreaking idea to contend with. But now wasn’t the time.

“It’s got nothing to do with you being a guy, Ax. I don’t need help from anyone. It ain’t personal.” Her voice lightened up, her thorns slowly folding back in on themselves. 

Axl nodded, smirking despite the snapping of his heartstrings in his chest being abhorrently audible. 

“Well, don’t be her either.” He responded slowly. 

She was such a goddamn reflection of him sometimes it hurt.  _ How do you tell a person to stop something you’re powerless to control in yourself?  _

“Trust me,” he continued. “I’ve tried it.” 

Valerie loosened her hold on him and he lowered his arm back by his side. It was slightly endearing that she thought that would have been enough to actually stop him, he thought, as he returned to his spot nonetheless. 

From where she stood behind the counter, he could see her expression softening. Presumably at the result of his words. Axl didn’t really know how to respond to that, experiencing a rush of discomfort to his head, so he picked up his ramble. 

“I just don’t get why that other chick got to go home—”

“Eliza.” Val filled in. 

“—when she’s barely ever here in the first place. Don’t you deserve a break?” Axl ranted. 

“Like I said,” she repeated calmly, “Take it up with the boss. I don’t have control over anything. I just work here.” After a long pause, she clarified. “I should probably stop telling you to take things up with him. I’m encouraging you.” 

Chuckling, Axl spun his pen between his fingers. “There’s just so many other things we could be doing tonight. Better things.” 

_ Woah _ ,  _ slow down _ , chastised his brain _. _

“Oh yeah?” One of her thick eyebrows raised. “Like what?” 

He exhaled dramatically. 

“I can list dozens of things better to do than waiting on a total of,” he casted his arms around the room in a show of exaggerating sarcasm, “zero fucking tables.” 

Valerie hummed before shaking her head. “I’m just waiting for one.” 

“Well, I don’t know. We could…” He halted, racking through the shelves of his mind for an adequate answer. “Be out, doing something fun.”

“We always go out, though.” She returned. 

When she blinked, her gold-dusted eyelids rose to reveal that stunning set of icy eyes. Axl felt himself dissolve. They were the exact shade of the sky before a hailstorm. The creeping sense of chaos that was disguised under a blanket of familiarity, of safety. 

For a moment in time, he was laying back in the grassy plains of Lafayette, staring up at the sky and wishing it would swallow him whole. 

Like a landslide, the next line of his poem presented itself to him. Desperately, he tried to shove it into one of the crevices of his skull. It was like pushing closed the resistant, overflowing trapdoors of a cellar. 

Then he spent the next split second panicking. He’d forgotten what they were talking about. Her boss, work, better things to do— _ right. _

“And it’s nearly always better than this.” Axl declared. 

“You don’t even have a job.”

He moved to contradict her, but she was quick to intercept. “Working once a week does  _ not _ count.” 

“Fine.” He conceded. “Am I wrong though?” 

“No. I guess not.” She paused briefly. He could see her carefully piecing together her next words. “This is nice sometimes, though. Just talking, you and me.” 

Axl’s body seized up. That wasn’t the thought he had intended to plant in her brain. He hadn’t meant to sound as though he didn’t like spending time with her. 

“That’s not what I meant.” He said plainly. 

“I want this,” Axl gestured his ringed-fingers within the space between them, “Under different circumstances.” 

“I know.” Valerie responded, a knowing smile on her face. “But, them’s the breaks.” 

_ Not for long _ , he hoped. The day he and the boys hit it big, he was pulling her straight out of this shithole and not looking back. 

Right before he had the chance to respond, the damn doorbell went off again, signaling the arrival of another customer. 

“I’ll be right with you guys, feel free to sit wherever!” She called, beaming. 

That was another thing. She was always smiling. The lethality of her beauty was nearly eclipsed by the softness of her grin. It was childlike, tender. 

Val looked down at him. “You know I appreciate the concern, though, right?” 

Axl nodded, picking up his pen and uncapping it. 

“Then you know that, if I needed help, I would come to you, right?”

He dipped his head again, this time with much greater difficulty. His heart was too busy suffocating itself in his throat. 

“You better.” He ground out. 

With that, she stalked off to handle the customers. And he, with a heavy hand, returned to the poem in front of him. 

_ She’s got eyes of the bluest skies _ —. The tip of the pen halted on the page. Where it was pointed spread a small blooming of black ink. When he deeply considered it, her eyes weren’t even blue, were they? They were more of a silver, really. 

But what sort of great poet described eyes as just  _ grey _ ? Hair as plain  _ brown _ ? Skin as simply  _ soft _ ? Axl rolled with it. 

It was as though some great being took possession of him then. He felt his hand move on its own accord, the words artlessly flowing from him. In every essence of the word, Valerie had become a muse. 

His muse. 

_ Her hair reminds me _ —, Valerie’s icy curls floated into vision. It was a cool shade. A gentle one. It was mild in the way he thought of a lover’s kiss; comforting in the way he thought of the curling of seafoam as the tide rolled in. Delicate in the way he reflected on a childhood lost. 

Soon enough, he jotted down the closing word of the second stanza. He had absolutely no clue what he’d do with it once he finished, if he ever did. There was no solid reason he wasn’t working on something more pressing, such as marking adjustments on the newest ballad he had begun to construct. 

The only way he could explain it was by describing a deep, driving itch that seated itself in the center of his abdomen. Whenever he wasn’t faced with the poem, it would eat away at him. In recent days, it had gotten so bad that he went to bed feeling hollowed out. 

“Whatcha workin’ on?” asked Valerie loudly in his left ear, Axl jumped from his skin.

“Jesus fuck, Val.” She didn’t even look an ounce apologetic, instead raising her finger to her lips and shushing him.

Her glare was pointed as she pinned the order to the spinning rack. “There are children around.” 

“At two in the fuckin’ morning?” Axl challenged. He swiveled around and, sure enough, there was a toddler sitting beside his mother in one of the booths. “Time to grow up, I guess.” 

“You’re fucking hopeless.” Val whined. Axl raised his eyebrows as she groaned. “And a bad influence.” 

Angels sung, birds chirped. All was right in the world again. 

“Anyways, what have you got there?” She questioned, pulling herself up to sit on the bartop. 

He moved to cover it with one hand, rubbing exhaustion from his eyes with the other. “Nothing yet. We’ll see.” 

“You’ve been working on it all night.” Her voice was lined with skepticism. 

“Just something I’ve been tossing around for a little bit. It’s not directly related to the band.” 

“You write things like that?” Valerie questioned. As she spoke, her legs swung over the edge of the bartop. “Seperate from the band, I mean?” 

Axl shrugged. “Sure, I do. Nearly half the shit we play starts as random thoughts from Izzy or I. Most of what’s on paper doesn’t even make it to the stage.”

“Huh.” 

“What?” He picked up his package of cigarettes and pulled one out. 

“I guess I just thought it was more a collaborative process.” 

“Oh, it is. Not at first, though.” Axl quipped, placing the smoke between his lips and lighting it. “We usually write shit separately and then show it to each other when we figure it’s good enough. All of the music, though, we work on that together.” 

“Is it easier that way?” She queried. Her head tilted slightly, her big curls brushing against the yellow fabric of her uniform. 

Axl reflected vaguely on the endless nights spent agonizing over a certain bassline, a guitar lick, a drumbeat. Hours wasted repeating the same line as his voice ran itself raw or until Slash’s fingers bled. Countless fights argued because the riff was too slow or the chorus was  _ off _ . 

He knew, in some loose retrospect, that he didn’t make the experience too smooth for his band. Shit, he put them through hell constantly. (Just two nights ago he’d threatened to leave the band after a particularly bad session. The cause of which he could no longer remember. None of them ever did). 

Axl knew the boys worked well together. He had struck gold in finding them. From the first day, they had clicked; an automatic chemistry emerging. And, due to that alone, everything was less complicated than it’d been in Hollywood Rose—or any other band he’d ever been a part of, for that matter. 

But the days where they didn’t quite see eye to eye were thoroughly hellacious. The five of them being on completely different pages never ended well. 

“No.” Axl remarked finally. “But it works.” 

Exhaling, he knocked his ash into a bowl. 

“That it does.” 

Valerie jumped down from the counter at the sight of three plates appearing on the ledge. When she left to serve them, he took the poem and shoved it into his pocket; crumpled. 

The lyrics to a standstill  _ November Rain _ stared up at him. A swift sense of annoyance flared and, quickly, the pages followed in the poem’s footsteps. He was done working for tonight, he decided. He’d make up for it another day. 

A body dropped beside him. Alarm sirens sounded at the idea of somebody encroaching so dismissively into his personal space. Jutting his chin upwards, a sneer already in formation, he cast his eyes over the person. 

_ Oh.  _

It was just Izzy. 

Who, after Axl completed a quick round of mental math, he realized he hadn’t seen in over a week. 

“Hey, man.” Izzy greeted from behind his pair of sunglasses. Despite them, he was holding his head in his hands, unable to look anything directly in the eye. 

“Where were you?” Axl demanded brusquely. He withdrew another cigarette, lit it, and passed it into Izzy’s waiting hand. 

“Montana.” 

“Why?” He challenged in response. 

_ What the fuck was worth seeing in Montana?  _

Izzy yawned. “I was gaining clarity.”

“And?” 

“Things are still pretty unclear.” He concluded. The answer satisfied Axl. 

Taking a moment to examine him, he noticed that there was nothing setting Izzy apart from the man he was a week ago. He was still dressed in his attire of solid black, a hat on his head, his hair unwashed. A cigarette lit eternally between his thin fingers. 

If it was up to Axl, he’d say Izzy looked unhealthy. He was translucently pale, the dark bags beneath his eyes visible regardless of the thick black shades. It didn’t matter that Izzy’s sleep schedule was as fucked as his or that he seemed to actively reject the existence of light—he looked out of it. Just completely  _ gone _ . 

“D’you just get back?” 

Izzy shook his head. “I drove in late Tuesday night. Only woke up a few hours ago.” 

He knew that Izzy got by crashing on the couches of the latest girl he’d been fucking. With so much time in between, though, Axl wondered who’d given him the space.

“Alright.” He acknowledged. “You missed a lot while you were gone.” 

“Yeah? Anything good?” 

“Eh,” Axl avoided elaboration, bowing his head. “How’d you know I was here?” 

“Only had about three locations to choose from. Wasn’t too hard.” Izzy observed. Axl frowned. “Plus, Duff told me.” 

_ There it was _ . 

“Just came to check in then?” He asked. His cigarette had burned down to the filter. Quickly, he replaced it. 

“What? No.” Izzy dug through the pockets of his jacket as Valerie returned to the counter. She looked excited at the idea of having additional company. 

“Hey Iz, how was Montana?” 

“You knew?” Axl asked incredulously, as Izzy responded with an unenthusiastic, “Been better.” 

“You didn’t ask.” Valerie shot back. 

So she had a solid point. 

“Anyways,” Izzy retracted a few folded pieces of paper from his side, presenting them to Axl. “Wrote it while I was away and I wanted you to look over them.” 

Axl slid his gaze to Val, who nodded consciously. A newfound expression of understanding flooded her face. 

“And while I’ve got you here—” Izzy looked over at Val. “Cup of coffee?” 

“The coffee’s shit.” Axl stated, watching her leave. 

Izzy wrinkled his nose. “I haven’t had a sip of water in four months. I think I can handle bad coffee.”

After Izzy handed him the lyrics, Axl placed them into his pocket. He felt the paper slide and crinkle against the other contents. 

Gazing at the clock, Izzy ran his hand through his tousled length of his dark hair. “Actually, Val, can I get that to go?” 

He placed a few dollars onto the tabletop and pushed off his seat.

Axl furrowed his brows. “Got somewhere more important to be?”

“What makes you say that?” Izzy grabbed the paper cup and brought it to his lips, brushing off her temperature warnings.

“Where are you going?” Val piggybacked, frowning slightly.

“No clue.” Izzy divulged, placing the cigarette back between his lips. 

With that, he turned on his heel and left without looking back. 

Axl locked eyes with Valerie, who looked as windswept as he felt. 

“Well, it’s always nice to see him, I guess.” She mumbled, watching him leave.

He had no response. That was just how it was with Izzy. 

* * *

The next three hours of the early morning went by without excitement. There had been one or two customers, but nothing of consequence. On nights like these, Axl wondered how Val was able to scrape by. 

People were shitty tippers as it was. Add on that she had waited on no more than eight tables total, he couldn’t help but consider how difficult it must have been to make ends meet. (Not to mention that it was just purely discouraging). 

For perhaps the first time, Axl was glad he had to fork up his portion of the rent every month. Even if he didn’t make too much of a difference, it must have alleviated some sort of financial burden on her.

Yet, he knew Val also looked forward to the end of her shift for reasons other than the fact that it was over. The rising of the sun also brought the wave of senior citizens who bobbled in slowly looking for their coffee fix and early bird special. It kept her busy and in high spirits. 

The only thing Axl positively anticipated about the brightening sky was that the fluorescent lights were finally dimmed. Well, that and the fact that he’d be going to bed in less than a couple hours. 

Gone was the grimy overcast that coated the diner like a layer of sweat. Instead, a honeyed glow was ushered in. One sort of similar to the way they had been pictured on television during his childhood—on the off chance that he might have been able to watch it. 

The sun reflected off the pale blue and yellow fixtures of establishment, gleaming like it should on a brochure. Everything twinkled.

He actually hated that aspect of it, if he was being honest. It looked a little  _ too _ picturesque for his comfort level. So much so that Axl would willingly sit through another six hours in the dark hours of the night solely to avoid it.

“Axl.” Valerie called, waving her hand in front of his face. He snapped to attention, mumbling noncommittally. 

Over the course of time, her curls had begun to fall. Her shoulders were drooping; she appeared worn out. 

“Why don’t you go home?” She questioned softly. “You don’t have to stay for the whole time, you know.” 

He squeezed the exhaustion from his eyes, feeling them burn uncomfortably. “We’ve only got an hour left. I’m good.” 

He had caved and accepted a cup of coffee an hour ago. It was the only thing keeping him from placing his head down on the counter and drifting off. 

“Well, alright. I just feel bad that you’re always giving up your nights to be here.” Valerie confessed. 

Axl frowned. Quite literally, it was the exact opposite of a wasted time. Before he met her, all he had known were meandering evenings with no specific purpose; stretches of time so inconsequential, so meaningless, they blurred together into a murky timeline of nothing. 

That wasn’t to say that she was the only substantial aspect of his life. Not in the slightest. But she kept him moving, never letting him get stuck in one place for too long. 

“Don’t worry about me.” He assured her. “Besides, I’ve got work to do.” 

He patted the leg of his jeans where Izzy’s lyrics sat. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” Valerie replied. “Looks like I’ve got a table or two finishing up anyways.” 

Axl unfolded the lyrics, shifting his eyes rapidly across the pages of Izzy’s messy scrawl. The words were written hurriedly, smeared in some places, and on what appeared to be a motel paper pad. 

_ Enjoy Your Stay! _ was printed in smaller letters in the bottom right corner, next to the outline of a grizzly bear. He chuckled to himself when he pictured the lithe man curled up on a moldy twin mattress in the motel room, penning the lyrics.

Underlined starkly at the top was the title of the song;  _ Patience _ . Roughly, Axl picked up on the relatively simple story of Izzy asking the girl (imaginary or not, he never knew) for time, breathing room. It was bitterly sentimental in that way that Izzy so often left his flair on their tunes. 

For the hundredth time, he uncapped his own pen. The blue ink stood out squarely against the bright red that Izzy had used. 

Axl went in and scratched out a word or two, replacing it with ones he figured sounded better. As far as the verses went, however, he didn’t have much to give. He liked the way they were. The chorus, too. 

The outro was entirely unfinished. He detected bits and pieces of things that were scratched out roughly; nothing of substance. There was an ambiguous mention of walking the streets, which Axl was overly familiar with. Enough so that he could begin writing again, the words materializing in his head without effort. 

Though, because he didn’t know the exact tune of the song, it made filling things in tricky. He wrote and rewrote some lines several times before he was satisfied with the outcome. 

Nevertheless, he sat and effectively killed another half hour. Even if he didn’t finish anything then and there, what he contributed was a solid start. One that he hoped Izzy would be able to branch off of and continue. 

For a dazzling moment, Axl felt pure bliss. Content. Wholly productive. 

Miraculously, it managed to last a full five minutes. 

The overhead bell pinged again. A new turn of events turned his mood sour. He had forgotten about Jill’s habit of appearing at Shirley’s every few mornings for breakfast before her shift at the film rental started. 

The only thing that could manage to make the situation worse happened, too. When Axl went to rifle through the Marlboro carton, he came up empty. He had smoked the last cigarette an hour before. Neither of the girls carried them, he was officially shit outta fucking luck. 

He briefly considered actually going home early. 

“You’re still here?” Jill questioned loudly, sitting down at the counter. She was placed to the left of him, a respectful two seats away. 

Axl didn’t bother with nodding and took a hefty gulp of his coffee. “S’that a fuckin’ problem?” 

“It was a simple question, Axl. Why are you always so damn combative?” From under her breath, he hazily heard her whisper:  _ God, what does she see in you? _

It wasn’t meant for him, but he decided to answer anyway. “Fuck you, that’s what.” 

Swiftly, she rolled her amber eyes. When Valerie inserted herself behind the counter, Jill’s glare of contempt was all but entirely erased. 

“Jill, hey.” Val greeted tiredly. “What’ll it be this morning?”

The girl gazed up at the overhead menu, humming to herself in contemplation. Slotted in her ears were another pair of obnoxious earrings; a pair of opalescent shells. She was wearing brown today, so he wasn’t really sure how they matched. Axl stopped questioning it. Her fashion choices were consistently bizarre and, at best, strange. 

“Let’s do a…” Jill pondered aloud. “Let’s do a spinach omelette, yeah.” 

“Toast or hash browns?” 

“Toast.” 

“Wheat, white, or rye?” 

“Wheat.” 

“Sausage or bacon?” 

Jill scrunched up her nose. “Neither.” 

Val paused her scribbling to look up, her gaze apologetic. “Right, sorry. Anything to drink?” 

“Orange juice, please.” 

“Okay.” Val smiled, ripping the paper from the pad, placing it on the spinning rack, and ringing the bell. “ _ Manny! _ ” 

“So what have you two got planned for the day?” Jill asked after Valerie placed a large glass of orange juice in front of her. 

He flicked a look at Val’s watch. “Uh, sleep. Then, who knows. Then, work tonight.” 

He had told Valerie that he had planned to spend the day with Duff coordinating gigs, but he wasn’t sure how that would stack up. 

The blonde girl nodded, ticking off her list on her fingers. “Sleep, thank God.” She peered at Jill. “Then I was thinking we could check out that record shop that opened down the street, if you wanted—”

Axl tuned this part of the conversation out, losing interest. 

There was approximately fifteen minutes left in her shift and he was growing anxious with anticipation. This had been one of the longest nights spent here in a long while. He wasn’t sure if that was due to the absence of a frequent second staff member, who took over half of the workload and freed up Val’s night greatly, or because he had actually decided to work on his shit. Usually, the two of them expedited the time by dissolving their surroundings in nonstop teasing, useless ponderings, and frequent bickering over the rights to the jukebox. 

It was an electric teal in color, dented in several places, and had a poor array of song choices, but damn him if he was going to sit by as she filled the speakers with consecutive ABBA tracks. 

He rejoined the discussion. Valerie placed a steaming plate onto the counter. Jill took two containers of blackberry jam from the plastic canister and was working on spreading them evenly over her two slices of toast. 

When he realized what they were talking about—Jill’s family, he gathered—he checked back out. 

Axl vaguely thought back to his bandmates. Now that the sun was fully above the horizon, it was doubtless that their nights should have been winding down too. 

He was sure Slash had crashed by now. Slumped over whatever piece of furniture he had last placed himself upon; dead to the world. He was always one of the first to drop when they went out, a consequence of how quickly he overloaded himself with whatever cheap thrill he could find. There were countless mornings that Axl awoke to find Slash face-down next to him, dug too deep into whatever hellscape he had launched himself into headfirst. 

If Duff hadn’t collapsed in on himself, the resolution was fast approaching. He was a slave to the fact that he was able to run for so long. In any situation, it was both a blessing and a curse. He could last for hours, drinking himself dry, then completely wipe out. The only thing being worse than that, of course, was the series of events that arose after he awoke. Hangovers were a bitch. And Duff McKagan was no stranger to them. 

Steven was a gamble. A complete firecracker, always. Both fit for exploding in a glittering shower and crashing to the ground, a hollow shell. Should Steven not still be awake, tumbling around with some random hooker until the blistering midmorning, it was perfectly realistic to find him curled on a bathroom floor, out cold with a bleeding nose. 

When he put it like that, he realized how terrifyingly concerning it was. Fuck. 

And Axl didn’t even want to touch the topic of Izzy’s whereabouts. He could have been asleep again, for all he knew. Or coaxing himself into an opiate-fueled frenzy. Or fighting God. 

Honestly, he figured any were solid guesses. 

During Axl’s internal investigation, Jill had finished eating and the clock chimed in at seven in the morning. Valerie was, officially, off of work. 

In a flurry of motion, Jill paid, said her goodbyes, and left. She hadn’t said anything to Axl but he was okay with that.

Actually, he preferred it. 

“Okay, give me a minute and then we can go.” 

He watched her as she untied her black apron, hanging it on the wooden shelf nearest the kitchen door. Her hair glinted in the sunlight, making her appear iridescent. Axl wanted to bask himself in that icy halo. 

She pressed the power button on the coffee machine and then strolled around the counter. 

On their way out, she greeted the two waitresses on the morning shift. Axl was sure she had mentioned their names before, but they were lost on him. 

The taller of the two, a pretty brunette, had her eye snag on him for a curious amount of time. He didn’t think it was conceited to notice things like that. 

He felt Val’s hand on the small of his back as she guided him from the diner.  _ That was odd _ . 

Was it jealousy? 

No, absolutely not. 

Now,  _ that _ was a narcissistic concept to entertain.

The August morning air was dewy, a hint of a chill in its gentle breeze. When he saw goosebumps break out on her slender arms, he shucked off his leather jacket and placed it over her shoulders. 

“Won’t you be cold?” She queried, not hesitating to slip her arms into the sleeves. 

“Are you kidding?” Axl joked. “This is boiling where we’re from.” 

He was actually a tad bit cold, but she didn’t need to know that. He adored the clash of the oversized black leather atop her mustard yellow uniform, anyways. 

Seeing her in his clothes was enough of an incentive for his brain to short circuit, too. 

“Thank you.” 

Axl released a small smirk. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Not just for the jacket. Thanks for, you know, keeping me company. And walking me home everyday, I know it's not much fun.” 

“Val,” He spoke soberly. “You don’t have to thank me for anything...ever. I’m the one who owes you for life, really.” 

“Oh, won’t you forget about that? You know I love having you at the apartment.”

“Well, then don’t you mention anything about this.” Axl reasoned, raising one eyebrow. 

“I just can’t help but feel like you could be doing something better. You could be out, like you said earlier. Don’t know too many rockstars that kill their time in diners.” 

“Didn’t realize you knew so many of them in the first place.” He mentioned lightly. “Plus, I like hanging out with you. Why does it matter where we are?”

“It doesn’t.” She stressed. 

“Okay, so we’re fine then.” 

Valerie huffed. “We’re fine.” 

“Fine.” 

To say walking home with her was the highlight of his day was a copious understatement. He found himself actively looking forward to it. 

It was a short distance—not more than five minutes—but it made him feel like they held something real and fleshed out. Doing something so mundane as walking his girl home sent shivers down his spine. 

Axl’s mind ground to a halt. Okay, he _really_ had to stop referring to her as his girl. It was getting out of hand. He wouldn’t want himself to be getting any ideas. 

On that same token, however, he still loosely considered that invisible tether that connected the two of them to mean something. Like, in some alternate dimension, she belonged to him and vice versa. 

It wasn’t like he owned her, obviously, but to simply  _ have  _ her—that would be more than enough. 

He was fully confident in claiming that she practically owned him, though. In every aspect, she had possession over him. Mind, body, whatever. Even his fucking soul. He didn’t care. He’d gladly serve himself to her on a silver platter. 

They turned onto their street, Axl shook the thoughts from his head. 

“Can I ask you something?” Valerie questioned.

He hummed. “Yeah, anything.” 

“You don’t have to answer, of course, I was just kinda wondering—” 

“Spit it out.” 

“I noticed that you and Jill barely spoke today.” She finally exhaled. “Was there a reason for that? Am I missing out on something or just imagining things?” 

Painfully, he was reminded of everything he had been trying to forget. Because, since Jill had confronted him last Saturday morning, they’d barely spoken. 

Well, that implied that they communicated regularly to begin with, which wasn’t true. But it had become even more sporadic in recent days. 

He was certain that Jill was still pissed as hell at him. Axl felt her ultimatum hang over his head like a swinging pendulum; loud and heavy. He didn’t even know why. There had been no temptation to cross his path since. Additionally, he considered his lesson to be learned. Very firmly. 

Brief bursts of the hallucinations drifted across his vision. 

_ Goddamnit _ . He needed a cigarette. 

And as for why  _ he _ wasn’t speaking to Jill...that was a relatively simple one. He just didn’t like her. 

But he supposed he couldn’t tell her best friend that, so he scavenged for a proper answer. 

“You didn’t miss out on anything.” He lied. It hurt how easily the words flowed past his lips. “It’s the same as always, we’ve never really seen eye to eye on much of anything.” 

Valerie grinned bitterly. “Oh, trust me. I know. But this seems different. Colder. I really hate the thought of you guys hating each other.” 

Axl shook his head emphatically. “I can’t speak for her, but I don’t hate her. She has her way of viewing things and going about her day, and they happen to be  _ extremely _ different from the way I roll. It’s not a reflection of you, Val.” 

They reached the front entrance. He latched onto the handle and pulled it open, ushering her in first. 

“I just don’t like the idea of my best friend and my— _ you _ ,” she broke off, faltering, “having to live in an environment that makes you both unhappy. Certainly not for my benefit, at least.” 

Everything he ever did was for her benefit. 

“Listen, are there days where I don’t like the way she acts? Yeah.” Axl stated bluntly. “Although, I’m sure they’re a lot more fucking frequent for her.”

He paused when she laughed. “Sure, I don’t really like the way she talks to me most of the time. Or how she safeguards you like you’re at a risk of being corrupted by my utter fucking terrible ways of life, but it shows me that she cares about you. A lot. For that, I can get over a little hostility.” 

“You got all that...from her giving you the cold shoulder?” Her mouth hung slightly ajar as they stepped into the elevator. 

He shook his head again. “I’ve been working on articulating that over the past few weeks in order to avoid losing my goddamn head.” 

“Ah,” Val breathed. “That makes sense.” 

The elevator was, fortunately, empty today. 

“Still,” She continued, leaning up against the wooden panel walls. “If it ever gets too much, or she crosses a line, just let me know. You’re both important to me.” 

That fact that she cared so much about his well being was enough to breathe three lifetimes of happiness in his chest. 

“The idea of you beating the shit out of somebody for me  _ is _ incredibly appealing…” Axl trailed off sarcastically. 

“I was thinking something more along the lines of a civil discussion, considering I do live under  _ her _ roof,” Val reasoned, jumping out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, “But I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.” 

Her eyebrows wiggled in mock flirtation. 

He was going to  _ combust _ . 

“I’ll remember that.” 

They stomped through the hallway, which always smelt faintly of aftershave and mothballs. Nestled in the far corner was the apartment. He was so dead on his feet that it shone like a beacon. 

Leaning his head against the peeling wallpaper, he let his eyes drift shut as she wrestled the key into the door. 

“Okay, you want anything to eat before I go to sleep?” She asked when they entered. Immediately, she took off her white sneakers, kicking them far off to the side. His boots followed quickly in their shadows. 

He was still full from the pancake breakfast she had shoved in his face three hours ago, so he declined. Stumbling over to the couch, he began yanking the extravagant throw pillows off one by one. “I think I could sleep forever.” 

“Yeah, well, Duff’s gonna be here at four, so I’d reconsider that.” Valerie spoke from where she stood wound against her bedroom door frame. 

“Reconsidered.” He paused before adding: “Ignored.” 

“God,” She gasped, “You’re annoying sometimes.” 

“Took you long enough.” Axl mumbled, shoving his face deeper into the cushions of the couch. 

“Goodnight, Axl.” She laughed softly. 

“‘Night, Val.” 

He heard the telltale clicking of her door and then an eventual creak as she dipped onto her mattress.

Jill’s ultimatum returned to his thought process, shaking around in skull unprovoked. 

_ You can either drop the groupies or you drop Val.  _

After everything that had happened just today, he saw no other alternative. He was absolutely done for. There was nobody else but her—nobody coming so close to running the risk of holding a candle to her. To her beauty, her spirit, her mind. 

Axl wanted her and nothing more. But nothing less, either. 

If that meant he had to quit the business, to be able to come home to her open arms and the same bed as she, he would do it. In a heartbeat, no contest. 

The poem in his pocket began to burn a hole through his leg. 

Pressed face-down into the couch, he reached an epiphany. The thought was so undeniably effortless. It was never going to be anything but this. He was never going to feel this way about anybody else, ever again. 

_ Goodnight, Axl _ . 

Her voice curled with his thoughts like tendrils of smoke, intoxicating him.

By the time his brain finally quit and he shut down from pure fatigue, it was bordering on eight-thirty in the morning. 

It was the first time he hadn’t thought of Valerie in the two months since he’d met her. 

The sleep was dreamless. 


	8. euphoria.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a series of semi-questionable decisions.
> 
> cw: drug use, nsfw content.

_ Friday, August 22nd, 1986.  _

Valerie was stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

“Tequila or vodka?” She mumbled randomly, to nobody in particular. 

“Vodka, always.” Duff responded. 

His voice was muffled, his head stuck in the rows of refrigerated beer. He didn’t look up as he answered, his hands grazing several different cases of beer; perhaps as a way to differentiate between them. 

They were standing in the middle of the corner liquor store. The lights were uncomfortably bright, the air stale. Through the grimy window, the sun was beginning to set. 

Valerie examined the bottles in her hands, her eyes switching between the clear and amber liquids rapidly. Ideally, she would purchase both. Realistically, she was on a budget. A tight one, at that. 

_ Ugh _ . 

Following Duff’s advice, she placed the tequila back in its place on the shelf. 

Looking over at him, she found that his head was still buried. His wavy, bleached hair was pushed up by a pair of sunglasses, his chain necklaces swaying when he bent over to examine a pack. His black tank top was adorned in several places with safety pins and buttons; a true punk devotee. 

“What are you thinkin’?” Val asked, cradling the vodka in her arm and picking up a few pouches of margarita mix for Jill. 

“Eh,” Duff shrugged. “Corona’s shitty but Slash likes it. Heineken, maybe.” 

She raked her eyes over the shelves, squinting to see through the fogged glass doors. “What about Pabst?” 

It’d been her favorite in high school. 

He made a face, mock-gagging. “I’d rather drink pool water.” 

Valerie shrugged. “Give it a few hours,” She suggested, gesturing with the vodka, “And you won’t be able to tell the difference.” 

He smiled, hooking his hand around the crate of Heineken. 

“Let me put it this way. I’ve got a small paycheck, here.” Duff patted his pocket, “And it most certainly will  _ not _ be going to Pabst.” 

“Fair.” Valerie relayed, holding the door open as he grabbed a second box. 

“Thanks. Hey, Steven!” Duff shouted. “You almost done?” 

An aisle or two over, Steven was browsing the snack section. When he had checked in a few minutes ago, his arms had already been overloaded with miscellaneous sweets. 

Steven sent an uncoordinated thumbs up. “Yeah, yeah. What kind of candy does Jill like?”

“Now and Laters, if they’ve got ‘em.” Valerie sent back. “Can you grab me a cherry laffy taffy?” 

“Already got it.” Steven responded, crossing through the aisles to meet up with them. On his face was a loose, energetic smile. She was almost sure it was the only energy source on Earth brighter than the lights overhead. 

They piled their purchases onto the counter, stepping back as the sluggish college kid sifted through them with his scanning gun. 

“Hey, Duff. How’s it going?” The cashier questioned. To Steven, he nodded in acknowledgement, busying himself with slipping Val’s vodka into a brown paper bag and Steven’s candies into a plastic one. 

Duff shrugged. “It’s going.” 

And that was that. 

The bags were handed over to Steven and Duff. Then, Duff threw his head over his shoulder and hollered, “Have a good one, Scott!” 

As they walked themselves out, Valerie turned to him. “First name basis, huh?” 

He chuckled, readjusting the way the beer cases sat in his hands. “Well—” 

“Hang with us for a few more weeks and you’ll get there too.” Steven interjected. He adjusted his jeans, his favorite leather-laced ones. 

“Oh, yeah. Speaking of which,” Duff began, “Boys and I are out on the town tonight, you comin’?” 

Valerie smiled. “By out on the town, you mean—” 

“See what the Whisky’s got going on, maybe.” 

“Guy’s night, hm.” She mused curiously. She didn’t want to tread on anything. “Is Axl cool with that?” 

Steven snorted. “Who gives a fuck what Axl thinks. If you’re free, you should come. Jill, too.” 

They rounded the street corner. Every so often, the boys would call out to a person sitting on the edge of the street, striking up a conversation automatically. She was left distantly amazed at how intertwined these boys were with the Hollywood streetlife. 

Two years here and there were still days in which she felt entirely out of a place. It was nearly identical to what she experienced when she first blew into town. She was like a puzzle piece with jagged edges. No matter how hard she tried to shove herself into the picture, she jammed; broken. It was hopelessly futile and she was thirsting for the day in which she could be at peace with where she lay down her roots. 

But the way the boys made such an effort to include her helped immensely. Her internal catastrophes were her own problem. 

“Count me in, then.” Valerie accepted. Duff punched the air in victory, Steven clapped her on the back. 

Adjustment was a vicious process, but the boys were surely godsent. 

Axl, of course, was in a league of his own. And, in the past few weeks, that had become painfully evident. 

Valerie had begun to spend most of her time with him. She had found herself tantalizingly allured to the particular brand of danger he wore. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t look away. 

Then again, she didn’t even really try. She didn’t want to. 

He was brash and bold, a complete bomb of a man. He was both the bark and the bite, packed to the brim with spiraling energy; a clusterfuck. She was charmed by the way he presented in such a volatile manner, tearing up the stage with his bare hands, only to turn and touch her with weeping tenderness. 

Axl was a complete and utter hurricane. And there she sat, right in the eye.

He surrounded her completely, enveloping her in a wave of something she couldn’t quite name yet. Something ardent in flavor, ferocious in texture. 

Whatever it was, Valerie was drunk on it. 

Where she went, he went, and vice versa. They were like little chess pieces stranded on the board of life. Watching and waiting for each other’s next move. 

Or, at least, that’s what it felt like to her. 

They were magnets. Often, it felt like they were pointed at the same poles, never fully able to align—never fully able to convey what exactly it was they were thinking, what it was they wanted. Always circling before bouncing off, deflected. 

But on the off-chance they got it right? Fell into that steady pattern of an understanding so intricately woven and natural, nothing even  _ had _ to be said? They flipped to opposite poles and clicked. Those were usually the nights that he stopped by Shirley’s and sat, or whenever he was coming down from a post-show high. Really, any time she could get him alone. 

That same unspoken of tether was still there, stronger than ever. 

That wasn’t to say he altered himself to fit with Valerie. Quite the opposite, actually. Who he was, to the barest bones, stayed the same. She knew that Axl was complex, possessing several disjointed shades that, when mixed together, formed the most spectacularly blinding hue. The tints of him just manifested into different forms at different times. The energy he left on the stage—that boiling, uncontained excitement—was still there, just transformed. 

The pure cacophony and rage that he’d displayed to the rest of the world was traded for an intensity and unbridled engrossment around her. He was still deafening in volume, no matter the tune. 

God, she was so fascinated by him that it left her stunned. Valerie had never encountered a person so brutally electric as him. She just wanted to wrap herself in his wires and stay there. 

If she wasn’t mistaken, she could have nearly said the same for him. 

However, Axl was maddeningly difficult to read. Whatever his heart contained, he held it deep inside. He carried around a reputation, she knew that, but she was usually able to blow right past it and see what lay beneath. With him, she was gridlocked. Perhaps he just didn’t want her to see through him like that. 

Or maybe there just wasn’t anything there to see. 

No, that couldn’t be true. Valerie thought back a few weeks, to the night at the Roxy. She’d danced the night away, and before he had disappeared to chat with the manager, she had seen his eyes on her. All night long. 

Sure, she might have been playing herself up. Moving smoother, shifting softer. It didn’t change the way he’d been relentlessly drilling holes into her. If he had stared any harder, Val was sure he would have broken her and sent the contents of her heart spilling over like a sandbag ripped open.

And then there was the way he was still so content to sit with her hours on end. It didn’t matter if she was working or not. There he sat, in the same chair as always, by her side. Regardless of how she existed in  _ his  _ head, she had to mean a little more than nothing. 

“So you’ll call us later?” Steven asked suddenly, dashing the redheaded man from her thoughts. 

“What?” She asked, thoroughly confused. When she glanced around, she realized they had made it to the doorstep of Jill’s apartment complex. 

“About tonight.” Duff clarified. “Let us know if you’re still coming. Or if Jill can make it.” 

The August heat had caused the all three blondes to begin peeling the sweat-soaked hair of their necks. 

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, I’ll call.” She responded brightly. 

“Cool, alright. See ya around, Val.” Duff smiled, turning to leave. 

Steven stepped forward and handed her the brown paper bag holding the vodka. “Later, Val!” 

As always, his smile was blinding as he bid his farewells. He always left Valerie with a distinct feeling of giddiness, a certain warmth. He was sunshine, personified.

She waved, bouncing on the balls of her feet. After she watched the boys stumble away, she turned towards the building and slipped inside, excitement over tonight already beginning to bubble over. 

* * *

Luckily, Jill had accepted the invite.

Valerie was sitting on her bed, wrapped in a pale green towel. She had just jumped from the shower, the wet strands of her hair hanging down her back. In front of her, Jill stood with her hands dug deep into Val’s closet. 

She was already dressed. Tonight, she was wearing a soft, shimmery pink cocktail dress. Her feet were bare, her nails painted a muted eggshell, though she had a nude pair of pumps already selected. The gold bangles that shook down her arms matched the dangling pair of earrings in her ears. Which, today, was a new pair. 

When Jill had excitedly brought them home after a Sunday afternoon spent shopping, she had told Valerie that they were ginkgo leaves. Val had never heard of such a tree, much less seen one, but she thought they were pretty nonetheless. The gold surface reflected every inch of light, giving her an iridescent appearance. She glittered. 

Every so often, Jill would remove an article of clothing, examine it, and then mutter an obscenity beneath her breath as she threw it into the slowly growing heap on the floor. Once again, Val was having a wardrobe crisis. 

Jill exhaled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She had decided to leave it flowing down her back, the dark waves glinting several different shades in the bedroom lighting. 

“Babe, do you own any color other than black?” She queried, throwing her head over her shoulder. A perplexed expression overtook her features. 

“What you see is what you get.” Was what Val responded with, plainly. 

“It’s just so,” Jill hummed. “Dark.” 

“I think the black’s a good look.” Valerie responded. Her skin was beginning to break out in goosebumps from the feeling of wet hair.

Jill shook her head. “And it is, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that...don’t you want to wear something a little different? Change things up a bit?” 

Valerie stood up, wading through the piles of clothing on the floor. 

She was  _ not _ looking forward to picking that up later. 

“Well, lets just see—” Tightening the towel around her body, she began sifting through the racks of clothing. Pulling out an evergreen piece, she held it up. “How about this?” 

“You wore it to that one show like three weeks ago.” Jill replied. 

“I did? I don’t remember that at  _ all _ .” 

“You got extremely drunk.” 

“Ah.” Valerie conceded, throwing the dress onto the floor. 

Jill looked to the bottom row. “How about a skirt?” 

“Not as fun to dance in.” She responded. As she spoke, she latched her hand onto a hanger that was pushed all the way to the left. 

“This?” Valerie asked. It was a dark red frock that ended half-way down her thighs. She was surprised to find that the tags were still attached to it. 

Jill’s eyes widened, sparkling. “I love it.” 

Valerie grinned, releasing an excited squeal. 

Skipping off to the bathroom, she shed her towel and worked on attacking the damp, knotted mess of her hair. She didn’t have the time nor the energy to even consider curling it, but she didn’t have the hair type that made letting it be an attractive option. Breaking out the hairdryer, she figured she best just straighten it. Axl had said once that he’d liked it that way, anyways. 

Not that it mattered, of course. 

He was a man. A fucking rockstar, at that. He’d probably find something attractive in her Sunday’s best. 

After she finished, she brushed the hair out with a final stroke and slipped the dress on. The fabric was cool, slinky. It hugged her in all the right places and cinched at the waist. The neckline was plunging, heavily accentuating what it found there. Her silver cross necklace glistened beneath the hollow of her throat. Quickly, she finished her make-up, placing the final touches on the smoky rings that surrounded her eyes. 

Not even she could deny that she looked fucking  _ hot _ . 

Valerie skated from the bathroom, dancing into Jill’s field of vision. Her friend’s smile was instant and lit up her face. 

“Oh yeah,” Her tone was approving. “Axl’s gonna love that.” 

She allowed herself a brief moment of indulgence. “You think?” 

“If he’s not blind, I’d say so.” 

Jill busied herself with swapping the contents of her regular, large purse into a smaller cross-body. In the meantime, Valerie reflected on the conversation she and Jill had exchanged in the past week. 

Keeping her promise to Axl, she had confronted Jill over her icy relations with him. Because, after all, she assumed that whatever was off about them wasn’t just a one-sided issue. 

Jill had been slightly more thorough in her answers than Axl had been. She addressed the issue at the root, whereas he had only described how he felt about Jill in relation to Valerie. She supposed there wasn’t anything wrong with that, given that he only interacted with her because he was connected to Valerie, but it also led to no progress on the investigation she had decided to open. 

Jill had claimed that Axl’s overall disposition set them at odds. She had said something similar to him—along the lines of them never quite seeing eye to eye—but had expanded on it. She owned up to the fact that she wasn’t ever really going to mesh with his overly assertive manner nor his penchant for blowing in like a storm. 

Valerie knew that Jill appreciated the quiet life, or even just the softer aspects of Valerie’s wilder concepts. She knew that her best friend was soft spoken, tenderhearted, and kind-faced, and got along swimmingly with those of like chemistries. 

Valerie was also extremely aware of the fact that her personal attractions led to the materialization of the exact opposite.

She had never meant for it to lead to such a clash. One that put two of the most important people in her life at constant strife. Valerie was out of her realm on this one, being that this was something she had never experienced before. Her highschool boyfriend, Danny, and her former best friend, Carolyn, had gotten along fine. 

(Maybe a little  _ too  _ well, actually). 

It was a persistent fork in the road that she found herself repeatedly encountering. Because she didn’t want to make either Axl or Jill uncomfortable. But, then again, she didn’t think it was selfish to want a mutual understanding, either. 

She needed Axl to understand that there was no separating her and Jill. Back when she had nothing, Jill was there. Before anything else, before  _ anyone else _ , she’d had Jill in her corner. There was nothing in the world she’d ever even consider trading that for.

But at the same time, she desperately wanted Jill to comprehend that Axl was here to stay. He made her feel like nobody ever had before. He lifted her so high, made her so damn invincible, that there was no way she would ever shake him. For as long as she could fucking manage, he was to be a part of her life. 

Jill had raised concerns that Axl’s lifestyle was too fast-paced for Val to mix herself up so recklessly. She was worried that Valerie was going to get tied up in something that she could never come down from. And, though Val appreciated her concerns, she wouldn’t stand for that type of objection. 

At the end of the day, her actions were her own. Her life was her own. And she was so damn tired of being controlled. 

That’s why she had left home in the first place. 

When she had returned with just that, it was clear that it hadn’t pleased Jill. Nevertheless, she claimed she would try to loosen up and attempt to see things Val’s way. 

They hadn’t had an issue since. 

“Alright, I’m ready to go. Where are your shoes?” Jill questioned, swinging her purse over her body. 

Valerie walked to the front door, picking up a pair of thin black stilettos and placing her feet into them. 

“You still got Duff’s number? He told me to call before we left.” 

“Uh, yeah. It’s somewhere around here.” Jill rifled through the address book that sat on the small table beneath the tan wall phone. She eventually raised a blue piece of paper, chanting triumphantly before handing it to Valerie. 

Valerie stepped up and punched the digits onto the keypad. Placing the phone between her ear and shoulder, she waited as it rang five times. 

“Hullo?” 

“Duff? Hey, it’s Val.” 

“Hell yeah. Hey, Val. We still on for tonight?” Duff asked, his voice transforming from monotone to animated in under two seconds. 

“That’s why I’m callin’.” She answered, laughing softly. “What’s the plan?” 

“Boys and I are about to head down to the Whisky. We’ll meet you there, yeah?” 

Beneath his voice she could hear loud music and laughing. “Sounds like you’re already there.” 

“What?” Duff shouted. “Oh, yeah! No, that’s just Steven and his fucking stereo system. Fuckin’ Bon Jovi.  _ Bon Jovi _ , Val.” 

“Ah, sorry I missed the party!” She mocked exaggeratedly. “Okay, we’ll meet you boys down there, then.” 

“Alright, sounds good. Bye.” Duff responded, chuckling. 

Valerie hooked the phone back onto its cradle, turning to Jill. “The Whisky, shall we?” 

* * *

Steven threw his hands up in exasperation. “All I’m saying—All I’m fucking say is... _ what if? _ ” 

“That the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” Axl responded, rolling his eyes. 

“No, no. Listen. Jill,” Steven responded, pointing his body towards Jill. “Hypothetically, what if Jill was short for Jillip?” 

“Oh, you actually said it again.” Jill moaned, burying her head in her hands. 

“Like Phil being short for Phillip, what if? Guys, it’s not that fucking crazy.” Steven was coked out at this point, his limbs sprawled out over the red cushions of the armchair. 

They were sitting in the most private space that they could find here, on a secluded set of couches that were tucked against the back wall. Jill was sat sandwiched between Izzy and Slash, the latter of which was inhaling a hit from the blunt that he would pass back to her every so often. 

Across from them, on the adjacent couch, sat Valerie, Axl, and Duff. Axl had his arm thrown around the section of couch behind her, filling her veins with a sensation similar in viscosity to liquid gold. She wished she could express how much she wanted his arms around her shoulders, how much she wanted him to pull her up tight against him. 

“It’s not crazy, but it’s stupid as hell.” Duff responded, taking a sip from his glass. 

She was drinking the same thing as him—vodka—but with an essence of something fruity. Cranberry, maybe? Valerie was so wasted that she had no solid clue. 

They’d been there for an hour or two, time being a fluid little thing, and she’d filled it with copious shots of the weirdest shit they could pull from behind the bar. 

Izzy, Steven, and Slash were high out of their minds, that much was obvious. Axl was reaching tipsy, too. It didn’t take much to realize that he had the most self-restraint when it came to this sort of thing. He didn’t ever overdo it. 

“Fuck off, I’m right.” Steven drawled, laughing and throwing his head over the back of the chair. 

“Steven, honey,” Valerie spoke, “I can’t even express how much you are not.” 

“You know what,” Slash mumbled, looking up from beneath his thick curls. “I think what he’s saying makes sense.” 

“Yeah, of course  _ you _ would say that.” Izzy retorted, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

Axl had one in his mouth too, and every so often, he would angle his head behind hers and exhale. The breath tickling the back of her neck and prompting goosebumps to rise. 

“Ugh, I’m outta here. Slash, come dance with me.” Jill said offhandedly, standing up and brushing off her dress. 

“Ouch. That hurts.” Steven mimed a blow to the heart, wincing in feigned pain. 

“If you shut the fuck up, you can come too.” 

He shook his head. “Nope. But thanks for the invite, Jillip.” 

He flipped his golden curls over his shoulder as she rolled her eyes and walked away. Slash quickly followed, the joint pinched tight between his lips. 

Duff stood too, unstably swaying on the spot. “Alright. I need a drink. I’ll be back.”

When he left, Steven turned to her, his eyes blazing. “Hey, Val. How drunk are you right now?” 

Jesus, he was a motor-mouth when he was high. She briefly wondered why she didn’t hang with him more often. 

“On a scale from one to ten?” She wondered aloud, aimlessly. “About a seven. Why?” 

She was intoxicated enough that Axl’s close proximity was beginning to fill her head with dangerous thoughts. Yet, she simultaneously wasn’t drunk enough that she planned to act on them.

Steven pulled out a small white baggie from his pocket, his eyebrow lifted. “Tried coke before?” 

“No, Steven. That’s a bad idea.” Axl said, sitting up. 

Valerie, however, was interested. Now  _ that _ would get the party going. 

“No, I haven’t.” Pivoting to face Axl, she said, “Don’t worry. It’s fine.” 

“You told me a month ago that you didn’t even smoke.” He responded, his eyebrows furrowing.

“So I’m supposed to fuckin’ sit here while you guys have all the fun? No.” If anything, his resistance only served to thicken her resolve. 

“What would Jill say?” He responded. Deep down Valerie knew that Axl didn’t really care what Jill thought about anything, but he  _ did _ care about avoiding another lecture. 

“She’s over there, why don’t you go ask her? I don’t give a shit.” Valerie challenged. 

Axl tilted his chin up. There was something curious in his droopy eyelids. He sat back and clenched his jaw. 

With the cigarette dangling from his mouth and the copper strands falling over his sage-colored eyes, he looked fatal. A complete heavy-hitter; the mafioso type. 

His voice was deep enough to send shockwaves through her brain. “Go ahead, darling. I ain’t stoppin’ you.” 

Valerie smiled. He didn’t even know how right he was for her. The possibility that he couldn’t acknowledge as much made her sick to her stomach. She threw her energy into facing Steven. 

“Let’s do it.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Izzy mumbled. He rubbed at his face lethargically. 

Steven bubbled to life. He untwisted the baggie and poured a quarter of the contents onto the glass table. Valerie watched, transfixed, as he split the pile into smaller sections, using his ID card to divide them into lines. In front of her, he situated a single, small run. 

“Axl?” 

“Hell no.” 

If Valerie wasn’t mistaken, she swore she could have caught a bitterness flash in his eyes. Whatever that was about, it was weird. 

“Suit yourself.” He didn’t bother asking Izzy. He had shot up only a few minutes before anyways. 

Steven took the straw from his drink, tapped it dry, and then bent over and snuffed a line. When he sat up, his smile was hazy. Sweat glimmered on his hairline. 

“Alright, c’mon, Val.” He gestured. Valerie felt a hesitant reluctance bloom. God.  _ Oh, how far she had strayed. _

Really, what would her  _ mother  _ think? 

That was enough to shake all concern from her shoulders. She pulled the straw from her cup, wiped the excess moisture onto her dress and sat up. 

It was just a little cocaine. 

The feeling of Axl’s hand on her shoulder froze her in her tracks. When she looked over at him, his smirk was lethal. Wordlessly, he pulled her hair back from her face, effectively keeping it out of the way. His other hand rested on her hip, searing the skin it found there. 

She finished the line in one go, watching the powder disappear from beneath her.

Valerie raised her head, her eyelids fluttering closed. Her nose felt like it was on fire. Subtly, it felt like she had been punched in the throat, too. 

Her body jerked back into Axl’s waiting arm. He relinquished her hair, dragging her to him as her body rode through the initial wave. As her senses adjusted, she felt his hand squeeze tight on her upper arm, the rings digging into her skin. Momentarily, the pain was utter bliss. 

Then, life turned itself up to eleven. The background noise that filled the room like an overpacked can of sardines muted itself to a dull roar.

Valerie became hyper-aware of... _ everything _ . The sound of blood rushing in her ears, the sight of the strobe lights flashing perilously on Izzy’s pale face, the feeling of Axl against her back. 

“Fuck yeah. Go, baby.” Steven murmured dizzily. He was slack-jawed; boyish. 

“Holy shit.” Valerie exclaimed. Her voice wobbled in her ears, the way it sounded when she had her head submerged beneath water. Distantly, she could hear herself laugh. It felt forty miles from her core.

The immediate rush of pure euphoria that soaked it’s way into her bones was electrifying. Her heart rattled in her chest, tightening her ribcage. She was ready to leap from her skin. 

“How do you feel?” Axl asked lightly, loosening his hold on her. The absence of his touch made her want to break down. It made her want to scream. It made her want to fucking rip her guts out. 

“I feel—”. That was it. She  _ felt _ . 

Her throat had gone numb. 

“Wanna another bump?” Steven questioned, sectoring off another line for himself. 

Before she had time to consider it, Axl had shook his head forcefully. “That’s enough for now. Give her some time.” 

She had become too weightless to care. Her body whisked itself away, floating towards the clouds. Valerie didn’t think she ever wanted to come back to earth. 

The idea of wasting the night in this secluded corner became a suffocating concept. She wanted to run, fly, and explode into thousands of stars. 

Instead, she settled for dancing. 

Valerie untangled herself from his mess of limbs and stalked off for the dance floor. Vaguely, she recognized the outline of Jill and Slash in the middle of the floor. But something deep-rooted inside her told her to stay off to her own side of the room. 

So she threw herself into the music. Each and every synth beat reverberated through her. She felt each note jump down every individual notch of her spine. In that very moment, the world swallowed her whole. 

Her dress was damp. With what, she had no clue. As she danced in her spot, she ran her hands down her body, grabbing onto the fabric and shifting it. Her hair was sticking to her neck with pure sweat, the activities of the night tousling it—frizz lifting off from what she had spent so long trying to straighten. 

Bodies clashed against hers. The sticky sweet pressure of having her space so thoroughly invaded without the claustrophobia was what kept her coming back to places like these. Valerie liked to be reminded that she was a living being with a physical existence. 

That corporeal figure was, currently, that same body was being torn to shreds by Axl’s gaze. 

It cut like hot, blistering lasers through her skin. She was flayed alive under his scrutiny. 

Lowering her hands to her hips, she hooked her hands over the swell of them. The coke sent her senses into overdrive. Valerie felt every inch of everything that crossed her path. 

The space between them, though nearly tangible, wasn’t enough. She needed her hands on him desperately. Overwhelmingly. 

But he didn’t move from his spot. Axl sat reclined the red leather cushions, his arm still thrown over the back. The perpetual cigarette still perched between his fucking lips. 

Even when he exhaled, he didn’t look away from her. Duff had returned to his side and she could see that they were entertaining a casual conversation. Yet, he never roamed too far. 

The magnetism was undeniable. 

She decided that there was no way in hell that he didn’t harbor something for her. This was well beyond primal physical attraction. In fact, they might as well have just shot pure lust in the face. There was a basis here, a foundation. And Valerie was sick of balancing on the tightrope above it; she wanted to fall in. She yearned to jump into him headfirst. 

It was surely the drugs talking, it had to be. Remotely, the logical part of her brain was screaming at her to slam on the brakes. But she was way past that. Val had already driven the acceleration pedal into the floor. There was no choice but to coast over the cliff. 

So what if he didn’t want her like that? She would never know if she didn’t actively seek him out. There was no better time than now, when her heart was bursting and her nerves were screaming. She didn’t think she’d be able to pluck up the courage anytime soon if she didn’t. 

Going straight up to him, though, felt like sticking her head straight into the mouth of a rattlesnake. No, she was going to get him on her terms. Alone. Axl was going to come to her. For once, she needed validation from him that this was  _ something _ . 

The song winded down. She watched Slash throw his arm around Jill’s shoulder, shoulders shaking in ecstasy. Though they were just friends, Valerie craved that sense of casual intimacy more than anything. 

Her throat was still simmering, she couldn’t feel her face. 

Valerie broke away from the dancefloor, stumbling towards the exit unsteadily in the towering stilettos. Every inch of her, from top to bottom, fully expected him to follow her. 

If he did, it’d be an exact replication of the party that had trailed after the first show that she’d attended. Back when her eyes had been filled with excitement and her heart with naïvety. 

Except, this time, she was the one leading him away. God, she hoped he followed. She didn’t know what she would do if he didn’t. 

Hightailing it to that same brick wall, she didn’t even stop to shiver at the brisk chill in the air. Her walk was purposeful, her strut undeterred. 

She leaned against the rough brick, pushing her hair from her eyes. Blinking slowly, a stone dropped to the center of her stomach. Already running itself ragged, her heart palpitated repeatedly. 

Sure enough, there he was, effortlessly animalistic in the way he had his sights set on her. 

_ Fuck _ . He was going to eat her alive. 

“You already crashing?” His voice was lined with a brilliant edge. 

She sped right past it. 

“What I wanna know,” Valerie claimed boldly, “Is why you’re avoiding me.” 

Confusion set in on his features. “What the fuck makes you say that?” He was empty-handed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 

“All night,” She stressed, crossing one leg over the other. “You’ve been circlin’ me, but you’ve barely said a word to me.” 

Axl’s gaze became slightly skeptical; he was thoroughly off-put and it was obvious. “...Is this the coke talking?” 

Valerie knew he wasn’t asking in a way that intended to undermine her words. He wasn’t trying to cut her off at the knees. 

“No.” She retorted hotly before reconsidering. It probably most definitely was. “Maybe—I don’t know.” 

Her voice still sounded yards away. Her head was filled with cotton wrapped in barbed wire. “All I know is that you’re holding yourself back. Is it something that I did? I said? I—”

A loose smirk morphed onto his face. “Don’t think too highly of yourself, sweetheart.” 

With any other man, her spirit would have disintegrated in her chest. But she was beginning to gain a tighter hold on him and his tactics. He was overly skilled in deflection. And he could use his reputation as a cold heartbreaker to his advantage with that. 

So she decided to play along with his game. The fuzziness that kept her giddy was still dominating every inch of her, anyways. “Don’t lie, then. I saw your eyes on me.”

“Yeah?” He inclined, cocking his head to the left. 

“Yeah.” 

Axl sucked on his teeth. “I like what I see, I guess.” 

He might as well have just covered her body in gasoline and held a torch to it. Valerie attempted fiercely to stick to her original plan. She couldn’t go through another minute of this unmitigated torture. 

Wrinkling her eyebrows, she let herself frown slightly. “How come you always gotta admire from a distance?” 

Despite her convictions, she couldn’t keep the twinge of sadness from her tone. Affection was worth nothing if she couldn’t feel it. 

“What’s that mean?” He moved to lean against the wall alongside her. 

“I don’t know.” She confessed. “I just feel like we’re playin’ some game here. I don’t like it. I can see that you’re holding yourself back from me. And it hurts, Axl. It hurts.”

He closed his eyes, his face contorting in pain. 

“I’m not playing you. I want you, I do. I’ve just never had someone so—” Axl broke off, searching for the word. Her stomach sank. 

“Boring?” 

“Good.” He automatically overrode. 

Her body rejected the thought of that. “Well then. I guess I’m doing everything wrong.” 

“No. You’re not.” Axl moved into her space. He looked down on her, his gaze inquisitive. He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Her fingers ached at the prospect of being able to reach out and just—

“I’ve been trying to figure out, for weeks, how to go about this. Because I’m so fucking terrified of hurting you. Of breaking you.” 

Her neck snapped upwards. “Don’t you ever fucking think you know what’s good for me. You don’t.” 

“No.” He agreed, slotting his hand beneath her chin. “I don’t. But I want what’s best for you.” 

“Screw the best. I don’t need it. I’ve never even wanted it.” 

But, regardless, that didn’t matter. He was the best. 

“God, Val. You don’t even  _ know _ . That’s the worst fucking part.” He bit, devastatingly, working the muscles of his jaw. “You don’t know how fucking crazy you drive me.” 

She could smell the alcohol on his breath and his words were slightly slurred. Valerie didn’t have a single iota of concern. She was past the point of no return. She couldn’t think straight. 

“I want you. So fucking badly.” He repeated. 

She soared. 

Here he was, in front of her, the insides of his mind torn open for display. Some part of him, though she was unsure of how domineering that part was, coveted her. Some part felt a driving  _ need _ to reach into her chest and rip it to shreds, to take her limbs and break them into whatever he so desired. Some part reciprocated every single ounce of the appetite that had materialized in her subconscious over the past twenty minutes (and for weeks before that). The one that festered like a beast in her throat. 

Valerie wanted to chew him up whole and spit him back out. The hand on her chin was barely consolation. She needed to know how he felt, how he tasted. 

“Have me, then.” 

His rough fingers twitched beneath her jaw. And then, without preamble, he suddenly lunged forward and devoured her in a kiss so powerful, so barbaric, her knees slackened and her legs gave out. 

She slipped and he caught her, his left arm circling her body and pressing her to him. His lips were violent and heavy in pressure. He tasted like tobacco and something vaguely mint-like. It was dizzyingly consuming. 

If she could’ve bottled it up, she would’ve. 

Her body was set aflame. Each individual cell lysed itself, unable to compete with the surging excitement that was dripping down from head to toe. So frazzled was her brain that it took her several rapturous seconds to gain a solid hold on reality. 

When the fog slowly cleared, the realization struck her like a knife to the chest. 

Axl’s mouth was sealed over her hers. Oh, God. 

Oh. 

_ He was kissing her _ . 

Valerie kissed back, throwing her entire body into the effort. It was earth-shatteringly vital that he know how badly she had ached for him; for his touch. Furiously, she knew she would take his love in whatever form she could get it. 

Her mind thought back to earlier today, and how she had consistently felt like a broken puzzle piece; adrift. Isolated. At that moment, when he eclipsed her and devoured her in her entirety, she felt herself finally snap into place. 

Their outlines clicked. 

Valerie lifted her hand, tangling it into Axl’s hair. Her other hand was curled around over his shoulder, grasping the blade of it. His arms still bound her in an ironclad grip. His steady strength was the only thing that kept her boneless figure standing. Without his strength, she’d be a useless heap on the concrete. 

Eventually, she had begun to see stars. Colors shot to the edges of her vision like dozens of firecrackers. She pulled back reluctantly. 

“What—” He broke off, raking a hand through his hair. 

Chests heaving, they locked eyes. It was like looking in the mirror. The sentiment startled her. There was no way they were going to get by without going the whole way that night. 

Like creeping ivy, Jill’s warning crawled into the hollow space of her skull. Valerie stomped it out. So what if it was moving too fast, she didn’t care. 

_ She was done caring! _

She raised her fingers slowly to her lips. The skin felt raw, burnt. On fire. 

“Axl?” Valerie breathed unsteadily. Her shoulder blades scraped against the rough brick as she struggled to gain oxygen. 

He hummed absentmindedly, pushing a loose lock of hair from her face. He wasn’t nearly as expended as she, but the beginnings of an intense blush blooming over his features was unconcealable. She needed him. 

And, abruptly, she was firm in the notion that— _ just maybe _ —he needed her, too. 

“Take me home.” 

* * *

Axl wrangled them past the threshold of the door, undeterred by the way it nearly flew off its hinges. They were a painful collision of slicing tongues and harsh touches. She was ready to shed her flesh and jump his bones. 

Valerie didn’t have to worry about tripping, one of her legs being hitched around his waist as he half-dragged, half-carried her to the bedroom. Her black stilettos were left overturned in the middle of the gathering room, abandoned. 

She made him stop before they reached her bed, halting him in his tracks. And, as she lowered both feet back onto solid ground, she noticed that the floor was bare. Jill had taken the time to clean up. Presumably when Val had been getting ready. 

She tucked the thought away for now but willed herself to remember to thank her later. 

Axl’s calves crashed against the mattress. He teetered erratically in his footing. His strong hands were wrapped around her upper arms, holding her tight as she glanced up and brushed a soft, barely-there kiss to his lips. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. 

But this wasn’t the time for tenderness and she quickly made up her mind. She knew what she wanted. And she had never wanted a man like this before. 

She’d felt blinding physical attraction before, of course. She knew what arousal felt like. Never before had she felt it for a man, though. Axl was a first for so many different reasons. 

She ran her hand down the column of his throat, fitting her thumb into the hollow of it. Beneath the pad of her finger, under the hot skin, she sensed a resounding thud; the ultimate reminder of his presence. 

He was flesh and blood and bone, just like her.

Overwhelming was her sudden desire to tear him open. 

She shifted her hand up behind his head and pulled him down to her, capturing him once again in a kiss. Her other hand made itself busy with sliding beneath the lapel of his leather jacket and yanking it from his shoulders. There was too much space between them, too much clothing. 

And if she had this dress on for one minute longer, she thought she might just lose it. 

Axl shouldered off the jacket, the metal buckles clacking loudly against the wooden flooring. Beneath the guidance of the moonlight, she watched the dark ink of his tattoos ripple as he pulled his tank top up over his head and flung it somewhere unreachable. The pale expanse of his chest was stony, the likes of some marble statue left to rot at the floor of the ocean. 

He didn’t waste time grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around. The wind raced itself from her chest, her body and mind unable to communicate as his thin, warm fingers swept down her spine. Hardly faltering with the zipper, he ripped it down in one swift go. He pushed the dress down her arms, his hands following through on its course. It slipped, pooling by her feet just as he hooked his chin over her left shoulder. 

A tart growl broke from his chest. “No bra, huh?” 

“Did it just for you.” She lied, biting away a grin. 

In reality, the dress hadn’t allowed it. 

Axl groaned. His hands covered her breasts, the cool metal of his rings nearly enough to send her into a frenzy. Eliciting a moan from the base of her chest, he pinched her nipples into hardened peaks. His touch was fire. 

“Fuck, Val.” His breath, fanning hot on her neck, was voltaic. 

She liked the power she had over him. Valerie felt herself taking a bite of the forbidden fruit, testing the waters of temptation. It was a strangely feminine force that was buried deep in her soul; one that she wasn’t even aware she’d possessed until now. It flowed through her like lava. 

Hesitantly, she felt his lips press down on her neck, biting down and sucking softly. She vaguely recognized that she was willing to let him tear into the flesh there; to break it open and let the blood spill down her like a dam smashed to pieces. 

Axl’s hands moved uncontrollably; unstoppably. Down the valley of her waist, beneath the curve of her breasts, between the gap of her thighs. Though he didn’t stray too long in any single place, he devoted equal attention to them all. He was hers to roam. 

Her body was a temple and he had come, wrists shackled and knees bloody, to worship. 

She felt like a piece of pottery in his hands. Beautiful, valuable, and devastatingly fragile. If he were to drop her, she’d collapse like a puppet with cut strings.

But she knew, without thinking, that he never would. 

A particularly haunting graze of her inner-thigh summoned the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. Valerie threw her head back, her hair falling over his shoulder. Her chest rose dramatically—and they hadn’t even done anything yet. 

God, how desperately she needed them to. 

His fingers dipped beneath the band of her underwear, experimenting. If she didn’t gain ahold of herself now, she’d be a fucking goner. She wrapped her hand around his wrist, feeling the beads of his bracelets leave impressions on her palm.

Turning herself back around, she moved to place open-mouth kisses on his chest. Val smiled up at him as her tongue skated up his sternum. Her giggle was purposefully devilish and his face was contorted in a painful restraint. 

“Val,” Axl ground out. “Don’t do this.” 

Her hand roamed downwards, her nails scratching lightly over the hardened plain of his stomach. 

She reached the divots of his hip bones. Valerie could no longer ignore the fact that he was hard. In which must have been considered as painfully so, she concluded as she wrapped her hand around the stiff imprint. His hips jerked slightly into her grasp. 

Her fingers caught on the lace-up front of his pants and she made quick work of it, the strings falling apart without reluctance. 

“Here, let me.” Axl laughed quietly, knocking her hands out of the way. 

“Those are fucking impossible.” She exclaimed, watching him closely as he shed the leather. It must’ve been akin to a second skin. 

“Not at all,” He said, dragging his eyes back to her face. They were hooded with pure lust, the same kind that tinted his voice. 

“All it takes is just a little  _ patience _ .” He mumbled as he sat down. 

Then, he grabbed her wrist and harshly pulled her down onto the bed, the mattress creaking. Animalistically, he pinned her beneath him and covered her with the shroud of his body. His hips slid against hers.

Were it any other man, she’d have been repelled. She would have felt suffocated; trapped. This felt natural, though. Valerie realized almost immediately that she was perfectly willing to let him have the reins, if that was what he wanted. 

If the way he dragged his lips across her face and moved his hips in a steady pattern against hers was any indication, she figured that it was. His dick ground against her roughly. Valerie needed more. 

She needed him inside her. 

Lowering himself, the sharpness of his jaw ran over her waist. It cut like a knife. He hooked his mouth over the black lace of her panties, pulling them down with his teeth. Butterflies fled to her stomach, the pulse beneath her navel becoming deafening. 

Curving them around her ankle, he tossed the article somewhere behind him. With one hand, he gently nudged her knees apart. His fingers felt dangerous on her inner thighs. She wanted him to bruise them, to mark them as his. 

She was positively dripping. Valerie knew this by the way he swiped the pads of his fingers in the crevice her thighs, a self-satisfied smirk permanently glued to his face. Axl knew the influence he exerted over her. He took pleasure in reducing her to ruins. 

Valerie was so turned on that each touch of his fingers left a searing scar on the sweltering canvas of her skin; his breath was hot as he bent down and pressed his face to her. 

His tongue moved like the devil. 

She writhed beneath him like a holy fool, her eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head. Valerie had her thighs locked on either side of his head, holding him in place as he ravaged her completely. The power she’d harnessed earlier drained from every orifice of her body. She was fully pliant to his touch. 

Every so often, Axl would pull away from her and prey upon the soft, smooth flesh of her thighs. She could hardly anticipate the patchwork of violet blossoms that would no doubt dot them the next morning. 

If she didn’t fucking  _ die _ before then. 

She gladly would have just ceased to exist within his hold right then and there. 

Her ankles dug into his shoulders relentlessly, coaxing him to drag his mouth back to her. The tendrils of a release were scratching at the edges of her senses, clawing their way so viciously to the center of her attention that she was going mad. 

He closed his lips around her clit and sucked. Her body jerked and she released a loud gasp. Showers of electricity rained down behind her eyelids. The overstimulation was almost too much to bear. 

Her hair, inexplicably knotted, stuck to her in sweat. Her upper-body rose and fell like the tides of the sea. Soft, whispered, staccato moans escaped past her lips before dying off in the air. God, she was so  _ close _ . She just needed a little— 

“C’mon, baby.” Axl croaked, his voice ragged. 

Every moment his mouth wasn’t on her, her peak abated further away. Grunting, she tightened her legs around him. He laughed, the vibrations going straight up her spine.  _ Holy fuc _ k. 

Her hands fisted the sheets, looking for anything to grab purchase of. She wished she was able to wind her fingers in his hair and pull hard. 

“Fuck. C’mon, darlin’.” 

He added his fingers and she almost screamed. Deftly, they located themselves where she needed them most. One hand reached up to grab at her breast as the other alternated between curling deep inside her and stimulating the bundle of nerves. 

He was skilled in that he didn’t even have to wait for a response from her. He felt his way around her body, experimenting. Valerie was sure he could have achieved the same result on touch alone. 

Almost there.

“Don’t stop. Don’t you  _ fucking _ —” Her voice broke off into a drawn-out moan, her back arching. 

“Give it up, Valerie. Let go.” He demanded. 

A strangled sob suspended itself in her throat. She felt her soul leave herself momentarily. 

Then, it crashed into her like a freight train at full speed. Her body seized up, her mind going blank. Her vision blacked out. For an unknown period of time, her hearing went fuzzy. It was like she had been thrown into the clouds, the pressure of the air squeezing her temples. 

Axl didn’t stop during her breakdown, picking up the pace of his fingers’ movements and riding through it with her.

The very essence of herself crashed in upon itself. Her limbs were riddled with tiny aftershocks.

Valerie was blissed-out. Euphoric. It completely overrode whatever was left of the cocaine. That paled in comparison to the way he had just made her feel. 

She groaned. “Holy shit. Holy—” 

Axl unwound her legs from his head, pulling himself up between them. His tongue dragged up her throat. 

Valerie reached between them, making a grab for him. 

He batted her hand away again. “What are you doing?” 

Blowing her hair out of her face, she frowned up at him. “It’s my turn.” 

Axl shook his head. 

“Oh, hell no. Not after that.” He placed a poisonous kiss to her lips. “I want the full thing.” 

Val pouted. “I wanna make you feel good.” 

It was bratty and she knew it. 

“Trust me, honey. You pull that shit again and you will.” 

His voice was low, guttural. Commanding. 

“Fine.” She was still desperately trying to catch her own breath. Her syllables came out forced. 

By the elbows, Valerie dragged herself further up the bed. Her back hit the pillows, the plush texture easing the tension that painted her muscles.

Axl jumped from the bed, tugging his boxers down and stepping out of them. Picking his pants up by the leg, he rifled through the contents of the pockets before extracting a single, gold packet. 

Oh, thank fucking God. She would have forgotten completely. Even if she was on the pill. 

He tore the condom packet open with his teeth, spitting the pieces onto the floor before rolling it onto himself. Through the spaces in the blinds, the moonlight gave him a demonic glow. His outline was surrounded in a pale blue, crowning him in muted lilac. 

In that precise split second, he wasn’t a fast-paced rockstar out to rip her heart in two. He had the gentle gaze of a lover, the hazey aura of a dangerous liaison. 

He was just a man.

And, even if only for the night, he belonged to her. 

Axl placed his knee into the curve of the mattress, crawling on his hands towards her. His darkened hair hung over his shoulders, that same damn malignant smirk plastered on his face. 

He wrapped his hands around her stretched out calves and pulled them up. Her skin was hot, clashing with his cool, metal-clad fingers. She liked that he didn’t fuck around. Valerie had been with too many people who tried to overcompensate by doing so. Silently, he just aligned his dick along the entrance and sunk in. 

“Fuck,” He mumbled. The sound originated from deep within his chest. 

They released a pair of extended moans. She tightened her hand on his shoulder, demanding that he stay put for a minute as her body adjusted to the size of him. It’d been so long since she’d been fucked this way. 

He was patient, taking the time to bend down and shower her chest in kisses. They were barely there; angelic. The change of pace rattled her. 

“Alright.” Val whispered breathily, allowing her eyes to drift shut. 

Axl began to withdraw his hips before slamming back into her roughly. She found that she much preferred this speed. 

One of his hands had extended to grip onto the headboard above her. Each movement caused the rod-iron frame to clatter against the wall, the poles squeaking. It was fortunate that they lived at the end of the hall. 

(Though, she knew she wouldn’t have cared at all if they didn’t). 

With every thrust of his hips, his silver chains dangled over her. She wanted to catch the thick cross between her teeth and bite down until they shattered. Valerie reveled in the way that he broke her in, hitting the precise spots deep within her without fail. There was a rhythm, one that sent her barreling hard into the mattress. 

He felt so damn good that she sensed herself going crazy. She didn’t know if she’d be able to ever go without this again. 

Valerie had her hands flung over his back, her red-polished nails digging into the pale, tough muscle. They slid with sweat and, in her efforts to keep traction, she broke the skin open. Axl didn’t seem to mind.

If anything, it only spurred him on.

Each slam of his body continuously reignited the flame in her core. He’d given her little time to recover from the first orgasm, her body quick to pick up where it left off. It was a freakishly addictive feeling, to have her senses so brutally invaded by him. He took everything she’d ever known and flipped it straight on it’s head. 

“Harder,” She urged, choking on a howlish hunger. Her legs wound themselves tighter around his hips, her ankles crossing.

Axl complied. And it  _ hurt _ —so fucking good. It was the only thing grounding her. The coke had worn off completely by now, but sobriety was far from her immediate reality. 

“Val,” He ground out, clenching his jaw. “I’m not gonna—” 

“Me either, it’s okay. Just—” They both were unable to complete a full sentence. But her body was dangerously close to imploding on itself once more. She didn’t want to do it alone.

“Look at me,” He demanded, tilting her chin up with his finger. 

Her eyes squeezed shut tighter. 

“Valerie.” Axl ground out. His voice was low and raspy. “Look at me.” 

She opened them to find herself gazing into two endless pits. 

“Keep them open.” 

His pupils were so blown with desire they were nearly black. Starry. 

Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, the cross necklace pooling on her throat. The action was so uncharacteristically sweet that her mind went haywire. 

Axl then pulled away from the headboard and unhitched her arms from around his shoulders. His hips continued to sway as he intertwined his fingers with hers. It seemed that was the only encouragement he needed. 

His drilling was incessant, blinding, until she felt his body stall. It sent her over the edge. 

For the second time that night, she spiralled. Her body attempted in vain to label exactly what it was she was experiencing. She felt pure static in her veins; invisible hands skipping stones over her skin. Momentarily, she lost touch with reality. 

When he was done, he picked up his pace to push her through it. Eventually, she regained sensation, hurdling back onto the mattress like she was thrown from the moon. His weight above her was a safe one. 

Axl bent down and kissed her again. With a fervor strong enough to rip the sun from the sky, she kissed back. His lips lingered on hers for as long as they could, his heaving chest grazing against hers.

She was saddened when he pulled away and rolled off, crashing down beside her to hastily remove the condom. The only sounds that filled the room were two sets of lungs trying to reestablish their stability. 

There were too many things Valerie wanted to say, so she stayed silent. She didn’t know whether it was  _ him _ or the vices that had made that the best sex she’d ever had. 

She also wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull on that thread.

It was too fucking bad that she probably wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

Time passed, her body recovered. 

The realization that Axl had nodded off beside her did wonders to soothe her mind. Sleep was suddenly, powerfully, the only thought that filled her head. 

Curling up next to him, Valerie placed her cheek in the cradle of his neck. He was covered in seven layers of sweat, and so was she, but she had no energy left to do anything about it. Pulling the sheet up over their bodies, she laid her arm over his chest and hooked her hand over his shoulder. The beat of his heart echoed onto her forearm, conjoined with the pulse in her wrist. 

There were multiple poetic implications that fizzled to the forefront of her mind at the realization. But before she had time to contemplate any of them, sleep claimed her as its own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <3


	9. ground control.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the consequences of poor communication skills :(

_ Saturday, August 23rd, 1986. _

She woke to the feeling of warm sunlight on her face. 

Valerie lifted her head from the pillow marginally, squinting from the hot gaze of the light. It immediately struck her as odd. 

She never forgot to close the blinds before she fell asleep; she was too light a sleeper for that. 

She fell back against the pillows, exhaling softly, then groaning. Her skull felt like it was packed to the brim with cotton balls. Her head was pounding, her hearing muted. Everything was so goddamn bright. 

Now, Val was no stranger to a nasty hangover, not even remotely, but this was something different. It was brutally draining. Blacking out was an entirely foreign concept to her. She’d always been able to hold her liquor well. 

But this time, the pounding wasn’t so much as evenly distributed amongst her entire head. It was centered in her sinuses, the space between her eyes flaring up painfully. What the  _ fuck _ did she do last night? 

She blinked harshly. The haze that clung to her senses parted slightly, making way for solid thoughts. The first clear realization that registered through her head was the presence of body heat beside her. Oh. 

A rock dropped to the pit of her stomach. 

_ Shit. _

There was another person in her bed. 

Okay. That was fine. Val knew how to handle this. It had happened before, one or twice. A nice, normal-looking person that she’d met at a bar had just come home with her. There was nothing wrong with that. And she had nothing to worry about. They always ended fluidly, an unspoken agreement between the two of them that it was a single time occurrence. 

She liked one-night stands for that precise reason.

Giving herself a minute to gain awareness of her surroundings, Valerie eventually reached the conclusion that she was completely naked. Raking her eyes over the floorspace within her line of sight, she searched for any pieces of her clothing. Her features scrunched when she turned up empty. Right before the foot of her bed, it looked like there was the beginning of a leather jacket sleeve.  _ Huh _ . 

Her head was tilted away from them, her features pointed towards the alarm clock that sat on her left nightstand. She frowned. It was 2:27 pm. She had work in eight and a half hours. 

Valerie hated the prospect of eventually having to wake them. But, it seemed that they were still fast asleep beside her. For now, she figured she could easily slip her eyelids closed and just—. 

Without warning, they rolled over and threw an arm over her abdomen. It sent tidal waves of sharp electric sparks shooting down to her toes. Her heart rattled within her ribcage so violently Val had to blink back surprised tears. It was a man. 

His skin was pale, his forearm covered in a stack of bracelets. Some were beaded, others constructed of faded leather straps, and a few that were just cold metal chains. Where they met the skin of her stomach, they burned. 

There were also three tattoos on his arm, which she thought looked incredibly cool. 

Maybe he wasn’t so nice-looking, then. Not by her mother’s standards, at least. Valerie was quietly pleased that she seemed to be upping her standards. 

Narrowing her eyes, she attempted to decipher the images. Her vision was still foggy from sleep. On his shoulder was a blue floral design. On his upper arm, the face of a woman. 

_ Wait _ . 

Her brain skidded to a halt, catching up at full force with her exponentially widening eyes. She knew those tattoos. 

And, more importantly, she knew who they belonged to. 

Blurry memories of the night before tumbled upon her. They were askew, slightly out of frame, and possessed a dewy glow. Valerie saw bits and pieces of things—red leather cushions, Jill laughing, the brick wall outside the Whisky. Every so often, a strong body above hers would float into view. 

_ Oh no. _

She couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping past her lips. Her limbs jerked away from her body erratically as her head slammed between the bars of her headboard. The frame released a piercing, squeaking sound.

At her unconstrained shock, Axl awoke. His arm immediately unwound from around her torso and curled up against his chest. 

In the few seconds it took for him to gain awareness of his surroundings, Valerie reached down and pulled the white sheets up to cover her chest. Any inch of embarrassment that could be avoided was an absolute win in her eyes. 

Her heart was in her throat, constricted in the tight space. 

Axl sat up, chest heaving. His hair was beyond tousled, the red strands knotted intricately. With a quick, heavy hand, he pushed them from his face. 

Val was hesitant to meet his eyes, having no control over whatever expression might have been plastering her face in that exact moment. Shame, maybe? Blatant mortification, most likely. 

Perhaps she just feared the regret she would undoubtedly find in his eyes. And, despite the thousands of differing thoughts and afflictions that crossed her mind during that heavy beat of silence, she couldn’t bring herself to prepare for it. 

After all, how could he  _ not _ regret it? 

They had both been undoubtedly drunk out of their minds. Her dull senses told her as much. She must have taken something else, too. Though she couldn’t recall what that was yet. 

Sex hadn’t ever been discussed between them, either. Nothing like that had. Even if it plagued her mind daily, it was something that she had cared about slightly in concern to him. Something that, if it ever happened, she had desperately wanted to contain meaning; intimacy. 

Her envisions were unreasonable, she was more than aware of that. Really, she should have just given them up the moment she met him two months ago. Valerie knew that casual sex was part of his shtick. 

That was, by far, the most recognizable facet of a rockstar’s energy. 

But sex with  _ her _ ? There were too many other strings attaching the two of them that made it anything  _ but _ casual. There was no way that it could mean both everything to her and nothing to him. That reality would never balance out. 

She fucked up.

A cold sweat broke over her skin, pure anxiety raking over the surface of each of her organs. Fuck, she fucked up. Again. 

Val exhaled. “We don’t have to talk about—”

“What the fuck happened last night?” Axl cut her off. His raspy tone was groggy, riddled with drowsiness. 

She couldn’t tell if she was devastated that he actually asked—meaning she’d have to confront the situation—or pleased that she might gain more insight on the events that were totally lost on her. 

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked over at her. There was a curious tint to his gaze, one that she couldn’t quite name. 

The hand that held the sheets to her chest became shaky. “I don’t know.” 

She had a pretty solid inference as to what happened, actually. Yet, her willed sense of denial was so potent, it was easy to pretend otherwise.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. 

“God, fuck, Steven. I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.” 

_ Steven?  _

There was a small plume of belligerence creeping in his tone. He threw his legs over the bed, his feet smacking against the wood. He was completely naked and didn’t seem to care. 

While Axl busied himself with finding his underwear, she reassessed the limited memories she possessed of the night before. She could vaguely picture Steven thrown over the red armchair in the Whisky, laughing loudly. Sure, he was probably high off his ass, but that wasn’t anything too different than normal. 

“I fucking told him not to give you the fucking coke.” He had located his clothing, slipping his legs into the black briefs. 

Her eyebrows flew to her hairline. 

“Coke?— _ Shit. _ ” Abruptly, the burning of her sinuses made complete and utter sense. 

“I told you guys it was a bad fucking idea. Shit.” He rubbed his hands over his face. His lean chest expanded and collapsed beneath the weight of a heavy sigh. 

Was it a bad idea because it was goddamn cocaine, which she had vehemently vetoed her personal use of? Or because of what it led to? 

“How much did I do?” Valerie questioned. The fact that her mind was  _ this _ blank unsettled her. She was left feeling like she’d been driving down the highway with a blindfold over her face. Or maybe thrown into the deep-end of the pool and held there as water filled her lungs. 

His shoulders dropped. “Just a line, but still.” 

“Oh.” A swift, sweeping sense of relief dripped down her. She sunk down into her pillows. “That’s alright, I guess.” 

“No, it’s not.” He returned. 

He was definitely pissed. And it was definitely because he slept with her. 

Call it some sort of intuition. 

She was his friend, and they’d slept together because she’d been unable to control herself on a single line of coke. That was a new level of pathetic. 

Not only was she upset over the fact that she had royally blown any sort of valid chance with him, but also because she was just wholly embarrassed. 

She was ashamed that she had made a fool of herself—while doing something that, for once, was probably considered to be cool. She was mortified that they fucked and he thought it was a mistake. And she was plainly humiliated that she cared so damn much about all of it. 

Axl was shifting around the room in nothing but his underwear, kicking through the discarded piles of clothing for his belongings. His actions were quick. Harsh. 

His silence was deafening. 

Valerie felt herself growing defensive. At this point, she didn’t really think there was any way to save face. 

So she sat up, loudly blurting, “Well, this won’t happen again. So...don’t worry about it.”

Axl’s head jerked up. He had his leather pants in his hand, one of the legs turned inside out. “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“It means that  _ this _ ,” She gestured within the large space between them, “the blow, all of it. It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.” 

“So it was a mistake?” He asked. 

For some odd, invisible reason that angered her. She hated that he wasn’t making this easy for her. 

She knew that wasn’t in his coding, and yet, she still felt herself getting riled up. The shoe was on the other foot now, and for the first time, she bore the brunt of the strife he caused. She loathed it. 

If it wasn’t for his choice of words, this situation would have gone differently. The way she would have hoped it would have gone, when the time had been right. 

He thought it was a mistake, that much was obvious. She was merely voicing it so he didn’t have to, to spare herself from the pain.

“Yeah. It was.” Valerie stated. 

He nodded his head once, clenching his jaw. 

“You know what?” Axl spit. “Fuck this.” 

He worked on shoving his legs into his pants, stumbling around the room as he lost balance. Throwing his hand out for her dresser, Axl tried belatedly to hold himself upright. 

Simultaneously, she stood up. Valerie couldn’t even find it within herself to laugh at him. The sheets slipped off the mattress to fall around her body. The only readily available clothing was her discarded dress. It wasn’t really wasn’t an option. 

“You’re angry.” She observed. Awkwardly, she stood at her bedside, unsure of what to do while he dressed himself. 

“No, I’m not.” He shot back. 

“You are. I can tell. What gives you the right to be mad at me? So I made a fucking mistake, big deal. It won’t happen again.” 

“Trust me, I’m not—” Axl paused, tilting his head. “Actually, yeah. I’m pissed.” 

“What for? For sleeping with me? Well, I already fucking apologized, so I don’t know what more you want from me!” Valerie heard her voice raise. Distantly, she hoped Jill was out of the apartment by now, like she so often was on Saturday afternoons. 

On some level, encountering her when this blew over seemed even worse than the storm of Axl himself. 

“You really think I give shit that we fucked?” Axl shouted. 

Valerie recoiled. The words hit her like a forty caliber bullet. She  _ knew _ it. 

“That doesn’t mean a thing to me,” He continued sharply, pulling his tank top over his head. “And it obviously doesn’t mean shit to you, either. Not if you can’t remember it.” 

She wanted to scream and claw him to pieces. The idea that he thought her memory loss was a conscious choice was astounding. Valerie groaned. The pure rage that filled her bones was the only thing that was keeping the maelstrom of sadness from creeping in and laying down its roots. 

“Great, so we’re on the same page.” She lied. 

“If only you’d fucking listened to me in the bar when I told you not to touch the coke, we wouldn’t even be in this situation.” 

His anger was loud and off-putting. The idea that it was directed at her, specifically, hurt more than anything. 

“So it’s entirely my fault?” She accused, crossing her arms carefully over her chest.

“I didn’t say that, did I? But if you would have just listened—”

“Oh, so now  _ you _ , of all motherfuckin’ people, are gonna play good cop? Remind me the next time you show up here high off your ass and we’ll see if you keep the same attitude.” 

“I don’t care about the drugs. Hell, I wouldn’t care if you sat there and shot a speedball directly into your fucking arm. I said don’t fucking do it because I knew you wouldn’t be able to  _ handle _ it.” Axl retorted, stepping up to her. “And I was right.” 

His sleepy softness had all but entirely disappeared. Gone was the glow, replaced by an aura of rage and frustration. 

“You were.” She conceded, still yelling. “Why the fuck else would I sleep with you?” 

That was a low blow. She knew she was throwing herself off a cliff she would never be able to climb back over, but she didn’t care. Valerie was seeing red. That he thought he had a single inkling as to what she could or couldn’t handle—what was good or bad for her—was maddening. She could manage her actions and the consequences of them. She was tired of being controlled like a child. 

He was supposed to be the one goddamn break from that, after all. The one ounce of solace. 

Valerie truly had not a thing for herself. 

Axl’s lip curled. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to settle again. I can’t believe I even—” 

He broke off, heaving and shaking his head.

“What? That you managed to stoop low enough to consider me?” She questioned, feeling her own finger dig into her chest. “Well, thanks, but I’m sorry to say that this charity case is now closed.” 

Her response was full of bitterness as she stepped up on her tiptoes to glare at him. 

“I can’t believe that I thought, even for a moment, that you weren’t just another crazy fucking  _ bitch _ .” He bared his teeth, his face red with indignation. He was close enough that she could almost feel the emotion radiating off of him. That only served to spike her fury. 

She had been doing him a favor. Why was he so angry? 

If she were him, she would have rolled with the punches, taken the easy way out, and left minutes ago. 

But she wasn’t him. 

She was, as he put it, a  _ crazy fucking bitch _ . 

“Oh, I’m worse.” She seethed. “I’m so much worse.” 

“I know.” He bent over to scoop up his jacket, but didn’t put it on. The leather crumpled in his tight grip. 

Axl turned for the door. Briefly, the midday sunlight that crept through the cracks in the blinds gave his hair a copper glimmer. Mentally, she kicked herself for finding for the beauty in such a grotesque moment. 

“Axl?” She called. 

He froze, his body rigid. “What?” 

“Don’t bother stopping by Shirley’s tonight.” She hissed. 

Axl pivoted his neck, drinking her in momentarily, then laughed cruelly. “Uh, you won’t be seeing me for a  _ long _ time.” 

Valerie could only imagine how unhinged she must have looked. Her hair was snarled beyond comprehension, her make-up smeared, her expression erratic. The only thing maintaining her decency was a stained bedsheet. The same one they had been wrapped up in together just ten minutes previously. 

Brusquely, she hungered to return to that uniformed state of bliss. 

Yet, a strong burst of reality and the realization that Axl was fully clothed and towering over her like a scorned beast was enough to trample it out completely. For the first time, Valerie wanted nothing to do with him. She just wanted him gone. 

She was shaking ruthlessly, hardly able to contain her rage. Caught in her throat were tears. It’d been so long since she’d been this furious that she forgot she was an angry crier. 

But she refused to let herself slip in front of him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching her heart fall to pieces at his feet. 

“Good. Get the fuck out.” 

“Fuck you. I’m already leaving.” 

Stomping over to the door, he wrenched the handle downwards and flung it open. 

He didn’t look back as he left, slamming the door so roughly in his wake that she physically jumped back. The thud resounded in her skull like the crack of a whip.

His footfalls were heavy as he crossed through the gathering area. As she heard the latches of the front click open, Axl shouted once more. “Fuck off!”

The metal door crashed on its hinges. The entire apartment shook. 

So Jill  _ was _ home. Great. 

Even if Val was confident that Jill wasn’t prone to eavesdropping, she knew that the two of them had been so intense in their altercation that it would have been impossible to miss. Sympathy bubbled over for the neighbours they had surely disturbed. 

This apartment wasn’t even hers, not really. Valerie had no right to be putting anything of Jill’s at stake. Axl certainly didn’t, either. 

All of his words—and hers—were fluttering around in her brain like flies on a sweltering summer day. She couldn’t shake the venom that laced his tone, nor the unadulterated contempt of his features. In a matter of minutes, they had gone from something significant to absolutely nothing. Val wouldn’t be surprised if he hated her now. 

It seemed like it was always a matter of time before everyone did. 

What he said floated back to the forefront of her mind. How he had spit that she’d never see him again. Or that sleeping together meant next to nothing to him. 

Or how he’d called her borderline insane. 

All with enough conviction to raise the dead. 

And maybe she  _ was _ fucking crazy, but that didn’t matter. Who was he to say anything? All she did was accommodate a space for him to exit with grace, so he could refrain from having to tell her directly that what they’d done was one, large misstep. 

Maybe she was the foolish one for assuming he cared enough for her feelings to devote that much thought. 

Still, it was one thing to express regret, another to so thoroughly condemn her. To shun her as though she didn’t hold any more meaning than the next notch on his bedpost. 

She was so fucking stupid to believe that she had meant more to him than that; so utterly ignorant. 

God. Look at the mess he’d made of her. From the tips of her still bare feet to the crown of her tousled head, she was jam-packed with a rage—a  _ hurt _ —so forceful, her knees weakened. Valerie collapsed onto her bed, the sheets tightening around her. 

She knew that she should probably get dressed, but she couldn’t find the energy. Her back fell against the mattress, her shoulders untensing. The ceiling fan above her circled like a fuzzy halo. She watched it shake back and forth, its metal core emitting a low creaking sound. 

Uncontrollably, the tears spilled over. 

They were hot on her face, blazing individual paths as they fell and curved down the side of her cheekbones. Mixing with the residue of her make-up, the tears clung to her wayward strands of hair; everything becoming matted and sticky. 

Valerie pulled the corner of her pillowcase towards her to staunch the flow, but the effort was fruitless. The levee had finally broken down. There was no stopping the landslide of overstimulation that had been threatening to give way since he had first yelled back at her. 

Her anger was wet. It was soaked in emotion, drenched in the realization that she cherished him too much to just let him slip through her fingers. The dry, apathetic anger that had characterized her feelings earlier, back when she was confident in her sentiments and had forced him from her sight, was long gone. 

It made her feel powerless.

A part of her became frustrated that her tears were born out of ire. Something about an action so vulnerable as crying overpowering an emotion that was so bitter and so gritty, sent weakness thrumming through her veins. 

Valerie wanted to shout, to pound the wall to pieces. She wanted to tear the sheets she was encased within to shreds, disgusted that he had been in them, that he had his hands on her. She wanted to chase after him, screaming bloody murder that he didn’t get to be the one to leave her—to turn his back on her. 

And, most of all, she wanted him to experience the pain of the bleeding heart of hers that he had so viciously shriveled in his iron grip. 

But Val couldn’t do a single one of those things. The lodge in her throat was choking her so severely that all she could do was cry. 

So, she stopped fighting for a moment and let herself run wild. 

Instead of howling her voice ragged, she didn’t halt the sobs from wracking her body. They jolted through her like earthquakes, tightening her muscles and compressing her bones. 

Her eyes stayed planted on the ceiling, tracing the five spindles of the fan through a watery squint. 

Valerie didn’t cry often. In fact, the last time she had, it’d been the night she had left her mother. When she had packed her minimal belongings into a single suitcase and threw herself on the first bus headed westward. 

Her spirit had been broken then, true, but her eyes had still been bright. There was so much life teeming beneath her skin, in the hopes that she’d eventually reach California and stitch herself into a world so heavenly that she could begin working towards chipping away at the fossified mass of skin and bones that her mother had made of her. 

Her mother had been so constricting, so oppressive, that Val had begun to wilt. She had been an empty house with its lights shut off completely; abandoned. 

Axl had been the first one who had taken the time to learn how to turn them back on. 

Somewhere, she supposed that he had blown a fuse. 

The burning anger returned in full force. 

Valerie sat up, her body alive with energy. She had the relentless motivation to rid every trace of him from her room. To scour him from the face of her earth. 

The first thing she did was get dressed. She unwrapped herself from the sheets and pulled a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts from her dresser, the clothes giving her a newfound sense of humanity. Valerie pushed her hair up into a bun, having to individually peel off the pieces that dried tears had cemented to her cheeks. 

Then, she stepped over to the bed and stripped the mattress of its fitted sheet. Regardless of him, they needed to be washed anyways. The sheets she had been wearing followed soon afterwards, as did the two pillowcases. One of which was dotted with smeared blotches of dark mascara. 

The pile of fabric sitting in the middle of the floor signified the weight that had been lifted off her chest. Tip-toeing to the foot of the bed, she picked up her dress. The dark red textile was inside out and wrinkled. Valerie flung it into the hamper, unsure if she’d ever wear it again. It was cursed now. 

On the floor by the side of the bed that he had slept on, the condom wrapper glinted. If she wasn’t so overcome with stiff relief, her eyes might have rolled into the back of her head. No matter how recklessly stupid they had been, they’d remembered to play it safe. That was the first positive thing to arise from the day.

The plastic pieces quickly drifted into the trash can. Sometime during his hunt for his clothes, Axl had discarded the used condom as well. Val was silently grateful that he’d achieved the bare minimum of basic decency.

She pulled her blinds open, allowing the sunlight to flood her room. It cast its warm, protective rays over the entire surface. 

Now that her room was clean, she felt that she had the ability to function. With the exception of the stripped bed, there wasn’t a single trace of him. No indication that he had ever been here. No evidence that he had consumed her with reckless abandon before leaving her shutout in the cold. 

She booted the thoughts from her mind. 

Val focused on the fact that hunger was squeezing her insides. If she was lucky, she might be able to wrestle some sort of breakfast from Jill. She was the cook of the pair, after all. 

_ Jill _ . 

The awareness that Jill was just outside her door struck her once more. She was probably concerned by now. 

How could she not be? 

She had heard every part of their shouting match. And she’d been screamed at by Axl as he’d headed for the door, too. That never sat well with her friend. 

Valerie briefly wondered if Jill had heard her crying earlier. A swell of discomfort bloomed in her chest. There was no way she’d be able to explain herself. She didn’t know why she had been sobbing, or why she had let things go so far. She didn’t even remember what had gotten her to now in the first place. 

She wasn’t ready for that confrontation yet— _ she didn’t think she’d ever be _ —but she knew it was a pill she’d have to swallow nonetheless.

Besides, maybe Jill could offer something other than comfort. Perhaps she could offer information as well. 

Valerie cast a peek at the clock on her nightstand. It was now 3:14 pm. She had done enough pacing; she’d have to leave it eventually anyways. 

Covering the doorknob with her shaking hand, she stepped back and pulled it open. The airy openness of the apartment filled her senses, cloaking her in an atmosphere that was awash in tranquility. 

Jill was sitting at the kitchen table, a sad expression on her face. Her frown was slight, her dark eyes filled to the brink with what could only be labelled as compassion. 

She was dressed for the day, her blue blouse matching the dangling, bejeweled crescent moon earrings she wore. In comparison to Valerie, she was put together in a picturesque manner. 

And, sure enough, on the green placemat adjacent to her, sat a plate of golden waffles and a full, chipped tea-cup. They were made the way she liked them, absolutely covered in powdered sugar. 

At the sight of it all, the tears threatened to return. 

Jill  _ cared _ . 

Valerie shuffled over to the table, slipping into the wooden chair. 

She picked up the fork and looked over at Jill. “Thank you.” 

Jill just nodded, wrapping her hands around her mug of coffee. “I just want to let you know that I’m not going to bring anything up, not if you don’t wanna talk about it. I’m gonna be whatever you need me to be.”

Breaking into the waffle, she glanced up and frowned. The blockage in her throat began to regrow in size. 

“I don’t even remember it.” Val whispered. 

“At all?” Jill asked, wrinkling her brow. Valerie shook her head. 

“Bits and pieces, kinda, but that’s all.” 

“Well, that’s okay.” She responded, smiling softly. “You both drank a lot and things got heated. It happens, babe.” 

“High, too.” Val added. “Or so Axl says.” 

He was right, she knew he was. 

Jill shrugged. “On what?”

She chewed, pausing. 

“Coke,” Valerie muttered, and then, “Sorry.” 

For some reason she felt as though betraying her own personal rules somehow affected Jill. It was a engrained reflex, she supposed, to apologize for something that caused another’s displeasure. 

“There’s no need to apologize. Who was it from? Not some random stranger, I hope.” said Jill. 

“Steven, apparently.” 

Jill hummed, leaning her head against her palm. 

“Were you not there?” Valerie asked, lifting her tea to her lips. 

“I spent most of the night dancing with Slash.” She explained. “We got pretty buzzed too.” 

Examining the select few shards of memories she had, Valerie attempted to fit her words into the puzzle. 

“So you didn’t see me— _ us _ —leave, then?” 

What would Jill have done if she did? Warn Valerie that he was only going to end up so thoroughly disgusted with her that he could hardly stand the sight of her? 

Jill had told her he was going to hurt her, but not to that degree.

“No. But, you know, I wouldn’t have said anything if I did. You both have a habit of breaking away from the group when we’re together.” 

“Well,” She stabbed the waffles savagely, sugar dusting outwards. “That’s over.” 

“Yeah.” Jill frowned. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine.” She promised. “I’m not the one who had a fucking problem with anything.” 

Jill inhaled. “Was he really that angry over sleeping with you? He’s an asshole, but I didn’t expect him to lash out like that. Not to you, at least.”

“I called it a mistake,” Val confessed. “And he agreed. Then, he blew up.” 

“Was it?” Jill questioned. “A mistake, I mean?” 

“No—” Valerie shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. I don’t regret it, I know that.” 

But it hadn’t been what she was expecting. If they had continued down the path that they were on, she assumed that sex would have become something inevitable, of course. Just... _ different _ . 

She was confident in the knowledge that she had wanted him. Last night, or any time before that. Yet, everything had just been conjured up so differently in her head. Naïvely, she’d pictured romance. Or, at the very least, she had imagined her affections would be matched. 

God, she was such a fool. 

Really, this was all her fault. She had been the one stupid enough to believe he’d had the same thing on his mind.

“You don’t know that he regrets it, love. It was a lot to take in. And he probably felt bad that you couldn’t remember any of it.”

Jill was a voice of reason once more, but Val shot her down. 

“You didn’t hear what he said. He said he didn’t care about any of it—it didn’t mean anything to him.” 

“But does that mean he thought it was a mistake? Sex doesn’t mean much to men like him.” 

Valerie recognized that Jill challenging her wasn’t a form of taking his side. She knew that Jill would never do so. She was just trying to get Val to examine every aspect of the situation, the way conflicts were usually meant to be solved. 

“He said I was like all the rest,” Her voice broke and she had to put her fork down, every trace of her appetite dried up. “Called me a crazy fucking bitch, too.” 

For some reason, that was the factor that her brain caught on repeatedly. She was tired of men dismissing her as hysterical because she had the nerve to be affected by the things they said to her. Danny had called her a psychotic whore when she had broken up with him, too. 

“I was just trying to make it easy for him.” She added. “Give him a way out so he didn’t have to say anything.” Scalding tears gathered at her waterline. “He thinks I’m a fucking child, Jill.”

Emotion sat like a deadweight in her lungs.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. Love, listen to me.” Jill wrapped her hand around Val’s empty one, clutching it tightly. “What he said was wrong. And he’s a fucking asshole for calling you that. What happened between you two was ill-timed, yeah, but you gotta believe me when I say that what I heard today wasn’t the truth. From either of you.” 

Valerie raised her head to speak, but Jill pressed on, “You said it was a mistake, when you didn’t think it was. And you told him that the blow was the only reason you slept with him. Which we both know isn't right.” 

She paused, then quickly tacked on, “Not that I was listening in, I swear I wasn’t, but you were both screaming so loudly. I would have left if it didn’t end where it did.” 

Valerie brushed off the dark haired girl’s concern. She never wanted Jill to feel out of place in her own home. 

“And also,” Jill continued, “Axl blamed it all on you, when you were both in charge of your  _ own _ actions. That was wrong. But I do know that, when he said you were like all of the other girls, it was a lie. It was then, and it still is now. I’ve been watching you both for two months now and if he thought you weren’t special, he wouldn’t have stuck around.” 

“He said I couldn’t handle it.” Valerie whispered meekly, still unable to meet Jill’s eyes. 

“Handle  _ him _ ?” 

“The drugs. That’s why he’d told Steven no when he first offered.” Valerie clarified. 

“You were aware last night that what he said didn’t mean shit. It still doesn’t. You’re a big girl capable of making your own decisions. He’s a hypocrite for saying anything, too.” Jill stated boldly. 

There seemed to be a story there, but Valerie was too frazzled to grasp onto the thread and pull it. 

“Then why did he say anything?” 

Jill shrugged. “Honestly? I think you not remembering anything this morning might have scared him a little bit.” 

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” Val returned, pushing her plate away from the space in front of her. “Believe me, I do.”

She wanted more than anything to remember what he’d said to her. What he looked like with his clothes on her bedroom floor. What his hands had felt like on her skin. 

She could feel phantom fingers on her—purely the product of her own imagination—but it wasn’t enough. This may have been the only chance she’d get with him and the memories were dispersed into invisibility, covered in a blanket of obscurity. 

She had no keepsake of him. 

Other than bedsheets marred with her own fucking tears, that was. 

“I know.” Jill responded simply. 

Valerie wiped her eyes on a napkin and then, abruptly, laughed. “This is so fucking embarassing.” 

She was feeling so many things at once that it was the only viable reaction her body could produce. 

“Eh,” Jill dismissed, the noise echoing in her mug. 

“Wait,” Valerie suddenly froze. “You weren’t home were you? God, we didn’t wake you, right?” 

If they had really been  _ that _ tangled up in each other last night, she supposed that, realistically, there was nothing that would have stopped them. Even her roommate being asleep in the next room.

Her question startled a chuckle from Jill. “What? Oh, no! I didn’t get in until late. And it was, uh,  _ quiet _ when I got here. Don’t worry.” 

Val exhaled, consoled. 

“Really, I didn’t even know that anybody else was here until I woke up this morning. Even then, I would have just thought it was some guy.” After a moment’s reflection, she detailed, “I only knew it was him because he snores so fucking loudly.” 

Valerie tilted her head quizzically. “No he doesn’t?” 

“You’re not as light a sleeper as you think, babe. I don’t know how you do it.”

For some reason, she couldn’t mentally accommodate that bit of information. 

“Well, the couch is gonna be empty for awhile, so—” 

“Finally, some goddamn peace and quiet.” Jill threw a fist into the air, her tone lined with mirth. 

Valerie laughed. She watched the clouds that hung over her head break up and scatter. It was so effortless, being around Jill. Her best friend was the only one who consistently saw through her. 

“You takin’ off work tonight?” asked Jill. 

“Nah,” Valerie responded, standing up and moving to clear the table of her dishes. “I need the distraction anyways.” 

Jill nodded in comprehension. “You’ve got a few hours, don’t you? What do you say about stopping by the vinyl shop. It’s been a while since we’ve dropped in.” 

Valerie smiled enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she rinsed her plates. She was nearly entirely sure that Jill was only extending the offer because it was one of Val’s favorite places to be, but she didn’t care. Jill was trying to cheer her up in the ways she best knew how to. 

And be it far from Val’s place to reject that. 

Plus, she’d been itching to comb through the new releases for weeks. 

“That sounds perfect. I’ve gotta shower first,” She gestured to her questionable appearance, “But then we can head out, if that’s okay with you?” 

“Take your time.” Jill waved her off, standing up to pull a few pieces of wood from the counter. Grasped tightly in her other hand was a small bottle of super glue. 

Valerie dried her hands on the checkered dish towels before wandering over to Jill. “What’s that?” 

Her inquiry was soon obsolete. She recognized it as a frame that was hung right beside the front door, containing a picture of the two girls smiling on the patio of an ice cream shop. The tan wood was splintered into two uneven halves. 

Valerie frowned. “Is that—Did he do that?” 

“It fell when he slammed the door, it’s fine. Go shower. This frame cost like three bucks, anyway.” She held the two pieces together as she spoke. 

“Still, I’m sorry, Jill.” Her remorse was genuine, her voice dampening. 

“It’s all good! Go get ready or I’m leaving without you.” She joked. 

Despite her slowly rekindling fury over his behavior, Valerie chuckled. 

She had an eight-hour shift that she’d be spending alone. If she wanted to overthink how fucking angry Axl had made her today, she could. 

_ In fact _ , she corrected as she jumped into the shower, she most definitely  _ would _ . 


	10. wherever i may roam.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> greetings from rock bottom!

_ Wednesday, August 27th, 1986. _

Deep down, Axl knew that Valerie couldn’t control the fact that she didn’t remember anything about that night. 

But, like a twisted rusty knife permanently lodged in his abdomen, it still  _ hurt _ . He didn’t know why. 

Really, it was his fault that they were in this situation in the first place. They had both drunk enough to sink the average ship, which already tipped the odds out of their favor. She hadn’t needed the drugs, and he should have been more firm in his opposition to them. 

Not for the reasons she thought, though. Far from it. 

Axl had lied to her when he’d said she wouldn’t be able to handle the blow. It had been a statement that had hurdled from his chest in the heat of the moment, raw and ugly. He hadn’t meant it. Not in the slightest. 

In fact, he only cared because  _ she _ cared. When they’d first been alone, those many weeks ago outside the Roxy after her first show, Valerie had told him that she didn’t even smoke. When he moved in, she’d told him that coke wasn’t something that appealed to her and that heroin, frankly, scared her. She had been firm in her stance. 

And the fact that she had collapsed so quickly on it didn’t sit right with him. He watched her fall through the floorboards of the house she constructed for herself while he stood by, idle; complicit. He didn’t want to be the one responsible for entangling her in the side of life that so few came back from. He couldn’t lose her to this, not when he had just managed to  _ have _ her. 

Axl supposed he should have considered himself lucky that it was just coke. A single line, at that. Then again, if he hadn’t been there when Steven offered another, it very likely would have been more. Something stronger, perhaps, too. 

Eventually. 

Maybe he was simply overthinking it; seeing problems scratched into the wall where there weren’t any. Or maybe he was just heartbroken over the fact that she had no recollection over something that he couldn’t stop replaying in his head. 

Because Axl remembered  _ everything.  _

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop seeing her splayed out beneath him, lust blowing her pupils so wide the ice of her irises were devoured. Everything was blooming, her petals flowered open, for him. 

He didn’t want to stop, though. Not now, not ever. 

But it was driving him fucking insane. 

It felt like he had his own little secret. Something that belonged entirely to him, even if he wanted more than anything to be able to share it with her. 

Everything skidded to a halt when the realization struck him. 

That would  _ never _ happen. Axl had lost her forever. 

The thought made him want to jump off the roof he was perched upon. 

He was sitting on top of the corner liquor store, his head pointed towards the sky. It was black, dotted with white, twinkling stars. He didn’t know what time it was, other than the fact that it was extremely early in the morning. Not that he gave a shit. Valerie was working. It was a Wednesday. 

Four days since he’d left her standing in the middle of her bedroom, abandoned. 

He’d been on the roof for a few hours and hadn’t been caught yet. Though, he pitied the employee that might eventually try to pry him off. Not a single inch of him planned to go quietly.

Axl had packed nothing more than a bottle of Jack Daniels for this little escapade of his. In retrospect, he should have thought to grab a jacket. The air was crisp; brisk. The skin on his arms was cold to the touch. 

For the first time in his life, he hated the solitude of the roof. Places like these (hollowed-out, forgotten wastelands, usually) had always possessed a particular appeal to him. They called out to him and drew him in like a lighthouse guided in stranded ships during the night. 

In places like these, he found that the sheer cacophony of his thoughts served well to drown out the silence of being by his lonesome. It was more than true that Axl wasn’t always a friend to himself, but damn it, misery loves company. 

Tonight, however, his mind was filled with too much. It made existence hard to bear. Screeching white noise blasted throughout his brain, causing a migraine so severe he couldn’t do anything but lay down and toggle between the whiskey and his cigarette. 

The brick was rough beneath his back and dug into the skin of his bare shoulders. He was on the very edge of the roof, flirting with recklessness. The hand that held the bottle scraped against the floor, the one that held the cigarette was dangling off the edge. Every so often, he would knock the ash and watch it disperse downwards into the still air. 

He missed spending his nights at Shirley’s with her, sitting in that same vinyl stool, drinking the same shitty coffee as he watched her work. Valerie filled his nights with something to look forward to; a reason to not spend every night alone and miserable. Her constant need to fill the space with words and conversation had become a companion in the recent months. The absence of it made his skin feel ripped raw and left to burn. Her overflowing bubbliness was gone, a painful fact that was threatening to choke him. 

He missed coming home with her, too; the outline of his jacket shrouding her shoulders on the walk back because she, like he did tonight, usually forgot to bring one. The creeping sun would break the horizon and burst into thousands of warm-toned diamonds across her skin as she laughed at whatever dumb fucking joke he had decided to throw out. 

Axl did a lot of that, he realized. Trying to make her laugh. 

Perhaps he just liked to see her face break open with a smile as a laugh that could shatter the heavens broke free from somewhere in her chest. 

God, he was such a fool for her.

Valerie liked stupid humor, too. Cereal box jokes, puns, petty insults. Anything that startled a giggle from her. She didn’t like to brace for a punchline. She told him once that waiting ruined the fun. 

And even if he didn’t quite understand what she meant by that, it didn’t stop him from saying whatever came to mind in the hopes that he might hear her laugh again. 

He missed following her through the front door and kicking their shoes off together. They’d recently fallen into some sort of routine, in which he would sit at the kitchen table and accompany her as she shoved down a quick breakfast—usually a bowl of cereal, because she couldn’t make anything else. 

Then, they’d go their separate ways. Axl would settle onto the couch, watching as Valerie hopped around the room, brushing out her long hair and complaining quietly about the persistent itch that her uniform caused. She would talk the entire time, all the way up to when she would inevitably close her bedroom door for the morning. 

Sometimes even after that. 

Axl could recall the countless mornings where he ached at the prospect of being able to follow her through that door frame, of being able to lay down on the bed and watch her shed her uniform and then crawl up beside him. Most of the time, his thoughts stopped there, too. Uncharacteristically, what he had craved more than anything was just to have her beside him; to be able to do something as simple as falling asleep beside her and waking up to find her still there. 

And then, when he’d finally had that, he let it slip through the cracks of his fingers like water.

Suddenly, memories of Saturday morning returned to him in a force strong enough to knock the wind from his lungs. Though his thoughts never strayed far from it, not really. 

The brilliant anger that had flooded every square inch of his body had mostly diluted by now. All that remained was a dull, simmering ache. He was filled to the brim with low resentment, too.

Valerie had told him it was a mistake. Her voice had been firm, unwavering as she nearly snarled the response, and he felt his heart shatter in his chest—even if it was soon overpowered by rage. 

She hadn’t wanted him and she was disgusted by the fact that she’d had him. 

_ So it was a mistake?  _

He knew her answer before he’d pushed her into admitting it. Axl could tell by the way she had stood as far away as possible, hugging onto herself and wholly unable to meet his eye. He had fucking tainted her and she knew it. 

He couldn’t blame her for rejecting him, but it still felt like a bullet to the chest to hear the words fall from her lips. 

_ Yeah. It was.  _

He had led her directly into a lifestyle that compromised all of her values and, even if she came willingly, he should have done more to not prevert her so thoroughly. 

And while he’d never got the sense that she was holding herself back from him, the blow had made her care-free and open. Valerie’s demeanour outside the Whisky had been different, more confident. She said what she meant and took what she wanted. 

Axl hadn’t even meant to kiss her then. Honestly. He’d tried his fucking hardest to abstain from the way she had wrapped her wires around him and squeezed him tight. There had to have been a better place—a better  _ time _ —for the way he wanted to grab her tight and claim her as his. 

But she stood there beneath the neon bulbs in that unholy dress, her red lipstick smeared just below her bottom lip and her eyes glazed over, and he felt some secondary spirit possess him. He didn’t come back to himself until his lips were already locked over hers and it was too late; she’d kissed back. His fate was sealed. 

That was why it was akin to the feeling of being burnt alive, the moment Axl realized that Val had only wanted him when she was beyond faded. 

So he’d gotten angry, like he always did. Axl had snapped mercilessly, losing control. 

He’d told her that she couldn’t handle the drugs, which he hadn’t meant. He had said fucking her was insignificant to him, which,  _ dear God _ , wasn’t true. He’d called her a crazy fucking bitch. Which, looking back, was what he had wished he could take back the most. 

That had been her final straw. Axl had watched the resolve shatter in her eyes after that. Valerie had buttons and, with a single statement, he’d managed to push them all. 

Now, the fact stood that, in a matter of minutes, he had managed to shove her away completely. He was left feeling sick to his stomach. There wasn’t enough liquor in the world to soothe the wailing of his heart. 

Because the worst part about it all? The thing that had been eating away at his insides and chipping away at his will to live? 

It had been too easy to lie to her. 

When the anger had so thickly clouded his judgement, he was unable to control the poison that he spit out. It exploded and flew from him in droves, ruining everything within a mile radius. Axl had hoped that she would be the one close thing that went unmarred, and yet. 

There was no fixing what he broke. 

And there was no doubt that he’d smashed whatever precious thing they’d been carrying to goddamn pieces. He’d seen the look on her face. They were destroyed beyond repair.

Dealing with the consequences of his own actions wasn’t new. Coping with the realization that he’d wrecked the only constant,  _ good _ thing in his life, however, was simply too much to handle. 

Axl yanked himself into a sitting position, sighing. Taking an extended sip from the bottle, he chased it with a long drag from the cigarette. He was dangerously close to the edge of the roof. Silently, he wondered what it would be like to fall off. 

Would he feel it? Would it hurt more than the agony that was currently coursing through his blood during every waking moment?

He didn’t think so, but he didn’t care enough to find out. 

Before he could contemplate it further, however, he heard footsteps approaching. 

Axl didn’t turn his head. If it were some employee, he’d figured that they’d already be yelling by now. If it were an axe murderer, well, he’d take all the help he could get. 

The person situated himself on the ledge next to him, exhaling. Axl recognized the scuffed-up sneakers. It was Slash. 

The man didn’t say anything, only held his unlit cigarette for Axl to take. Bringing the thin stick up to the glowing cherry of his, he lit it and wordlessly passed it back to Slash, who thanked him with an aimless grunt.

For a few minutes, they sat in comfortable silence. Their legs were thrown over the brick ledge, their eyes plastered to the Los Angeles skyline. 

He heard the rushing of cars beneath his feet; honking and skidding periodically. Pulsating beats of music leaked from several different clubs at once, creating a chaotic thrum that swelled in his brain like a headrush.

The only movement that occurred was the exchange of the whiskey bottle from hand to hand. The glass clicking against the stone echoed like a gunshot in an empty room. 

“How’d you find me?” he asked eventually, looking over at Slash. The man’s hair was obscuring his face, his head lacking his customary tophat. He looked tired and worn out. 

Axl thought he could have gone on with the rest of the night like this, with Slash’s silent company as the sole thing grounding him. But curiosity soon outweighed his desire for inner peace. He hadn’t intended to conceal his whereabouts, necessarily, but he still thought he was tucked away pretty obscurely for Slash to stumble upon naturally. 

He was surprised enough that anybody had even been looking. 

Craning his neck, Slash smirked. “Scott’s on tonight. Saw you sneak up the back earlier.” 

The scrawny college kid came to mind and Axl nodded. He didn’t know much about him, other than his name and that he worked through the night to pay his way through grad school, but he was still grateful that he had allowed him to carry on undisturbed. 

“You askin’ about me? Worried, huh?” Axl joked, a mocking tone lining his words. 

“Hell no. Enjoying the peace for once, actually.” Slash laughed. “Just trying to buy a fuckin’ pack and then he’s tellin’ me that you ran up here six hours ago and he hasn’t seen you since. Sounded real concerned about it, too.” 

Alright, Scott had allowed him to remain  _ semi _ -undisturbed. 

Axl was just glad he had sent Slash up here instead of the cops.  _ That _ never ended well. 

“Yeah, well. It’s nice up here.” responded Axl, shrugging one shoulder. 

“Sure it is,” Slash conceded. “But you’re not up here to admire the fucking scenery.” 

As he spoke, he pried the bottle from Axl’s hand and took a hefty swig. 

Axl exhaled smoke and scowled. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

That was a lie, though. Because he  _ did _ want to talk about it. Just not with him. 

He should have been sitting in Shirley’s right now, with her. He should have been listening to her grumble about the senior citizens that picked apart their blueberry muffins to utter shambles leaving her with a gritty mess to clean up. Or about teenagers that didn’t tip correctly because they didn’t yet know how to properly handle money. 

He should have been working his way through the greasy breakfast she never failed to place in front of him or shaking down his fourth cup of that damned fatal coffee. 

And instead he had made a meal out of half a bottle of Jack and nearly an entire package of cigarettes. Axl was hollow inside. 

“Nothing from her?” questioned Slash, overriding the tense silence. 

“Izzy told you?” complained Axl, “I told the fucker to keep his mouth shut.” 

Slash turned away to exhale. “We needed to know why you didn’t show up to goddamn practice, man.” 

_ Fuck _ . He’d completely forgotten. 

Ruefully, Axl backed off on his temper and plainly shook his head. “It’s not gonna happen. I fucked up.” 

When he had left the apartment Saturday morning, he had been too angry to talk to a soul. He had stomped his way down the hallway and the numerous flights of stairs, neglecting the elevator entirely. In that stretch of time, he was sure that he was carrying enough pure rage to pad his landing, had he decided to jump from the tenth-story window instead. 

Axl had spent the rest of the day alone, too. He’d picked up a bottle of the first thing he could get his hands on and hightailed it off the Strip. (Which, unfortunately, had turned out to be something that tasted like a drum of oil—not that it stopped him from polishing it off by the end of the day). 

He’d found an deserted patch of land beneath an overcrowded interstate and hid away there for the remaining hours of the day. Amongst the cracked gravel patches and the discarded needles, he was nearly sure he had lost some of his humanity. Whatever was left of it, anyway. 

In every sense of the word, Axl had lost control. 

He had beat on flaming metal trash cans with an aluminum bat that some kid had left abandoned, only feeling the pressure in his chest lessen when dents formed on the rusted surfaces. He had thrown countless scattered beer bottles against the cement posts that held the highways up, watching apathetically as showers of brown glass rained down around him. 

When the rage dulled, it was replaced by the thudding sense of complete  _ unfeeling _ . There was nobody at home inside. And, other than the reclusive sluggishness that was attempting to crawl into his veins, nobody came around knocking. 

It stayed that way until, sometime in the middle of the night, he’d had the police on his tail. 

Axl assumed that they were wired on some disturbance alert, but he couldn’t figure out who had called them. Sure, he most definitely  _ was _ creating a disturbance (a few of them, actually), but he shouldn’t have been seen under the pitch black cloak of the night, much less over the rushing of speeding cars ahead. 

The resulting chase only served to prove his certainty that the cops and their fucked up system were out to get him. 

Still, he screwed the lid back on his vodka, tucked it close to his chest and ran like hell. At the moment, it hadn’t mattered that fleeing the spiraling wave of their lights had been the first time he’d felt truly alive since he’d stepped from her room earlier that morning. 

Their grasp on him had never been tight, however. Axl had been able to dodge the path of the cruisers entirely when, chest heaving, he crouched behind the wide expanse of the stone pillars as the vehicles raced past. They’d been close enough to send his hair blowing across his face. 

His trail went cold after that and they dropped the hunt. 

Axl had burned through the daylight entirely and nighttime eclipsed rapidly after their glinting tail lights disappeared into the hazy distance. 

His brain told him the threat was put down soon afterward though his body was unable to slow down. Nothing could keep him from chasing a high with a path that had ended three fucking miles back. Throwing anything he could get his hands on, he shouted his voice  _ raw _ and tore his hair out. There was nothing stopping the pure poison that was leaking from his body. 

The lethargy of the alcohol combined with the sharp adrenaline created a reaction so toxic he could feel it killing him slowly. Axl couldn’t mitigate it, though. He didn’t know how to. He didn’t even want to try. 

Maybe there wasn’t even a way to help him. A lot of people chose to claim he was a hopeless case, after all. A lost cause. 

The perpetual black sheep, as he was sure his father called him. 

Did Valerie think that’s what he was? 

Fuck. 

Either way, how was one to recover from holding the world in their hands one minute, to watching it crumble apart at their feet the next? 

_ You don’t _ , he mentally overrode. 

Axl had finally crashed sometime early Sunday morning, his limbs quite literally giving way. When he awoke some odd set of hours later, he was in a ditch. His only companion was the glass bottle, its contents drained. 

He couldn’t feel anything. 

Covered in dust and grime, he pulled himself to his feet and began his trudge home. He was roughly a twenty minute walk from the Strip, which Axl considered to be some of the best fucking luck he’d come accross in a while. He purposefully avoided Shirley’s on his voyage home. 

_ Wait _ . 

Home didn’t exist anymore. Shit.

The luck carried over. Muscle memory had dragged him to the house of Izzy’s girlfriend. She was a stripper that he’d been seeing for a while; a real cool girl. And even when he’d banged obnoxiously on her door for three minutes straight, she’d let him use her shower and take from her pantry without complaint. Oddly, he was sure that was the nicest thing anybody had done for him in a while. Not that he deserved it. 

Axl didn’t even feel visibly angry anymore, but he was reluctant to believe she just did so out of the kindness of her heart. He remained on guard until Izzy showed up about an hour later, eyes bleary. 

He’d been there the whole time, just asleep. 

Rubbing his eyes of exhaustion, the man stumbled over to the table, not even registering Axl’s appearance until he’d had a cup of coffee in his hand. His black hair was tousled and his clothes were wrinkled.

In the two minutes it took for Izzy to get settled, Axl sat hunched in the chair, shaking. He was so drained of energy that he couldn’t control the jitters that festered beneath his skin like an infestation. 

Izzy’s mug hit the table and he cleared his throat. Axl looked up. 

“Why the fuck are you here?” He asked, his face deadpan. 

His girlfriend—Axl didn’t know her name, so that’s all that she was, his girlfriend—chastised him lightly, swatting him on the shoulder. Then, sensing that the conversation wasn’t her business, she left the room.

Axl frowned, lighting a fresh cigarette off the ember of his old one before smashing it into the glass ashtray. “Val and I had a fight.” 

Izzy sipped his coffee, shrugging. “Surprised you went this long without one.” 

Axl felt a scowl fall into place, the familiar coil of anger rooting in his stomach once more. “Fuck you, you fucking asshole.” 

“Fuck off, you know I’m right.” He spit back, and then, “What’d you do.”

Not  _ ‘what happened?’ _ , but ‘ _ what’d you do? _ ’. As if Izzy knew that Axl would be the only one capable of ruining something that had been so good. 

“We fucked.” stated Axl in voice ripe with apathy. 

Izzy’s eyebrows crawled to his hairline, his frown deepening. “Oh.” 

“We were really drunk.” Axl added, as if that was any real explanation. 

“Shit, I don’t remember a thing from Friday.” Izzy quipped, smirking slightly. “So what, she regret it or something?” 

He coughed through a haze of smoke. “She called it a mistake.” 

His body was aching, his hands were sore, and his throat was fucking  _ shredded _ . Axl no longer had the motivation within him to relay the details with anything other than a bored tone. Internally, every inch of him was writhing in pain. 

“And…” Izzy looked like he was bracing himself for impact. 

“And I said some things.” 

“How bad?” He questioned. As Izzy spoke, he pulled a package of his own cigarettes from a pocket and motioned for Axl to hand him the nearby lighter.

Axl shrugged vaguely and complied. For somebody who had spent the last twenty four hours relentlessly rehashing every inch of the conversation, he found this spectacularly difficult to own up to out loud. 

“Told her the coke fucked her up and she couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t remember a single thing.” 

“Jesus Christ, Ax.” Izzy groaned, placing his head into his hands. 

“I know.”

“Why the fuck would you say something like that?” 

His voice wasn’t harsh, just tired; weary. Axl sighed. 

The thing was, he didn’t really have a reason for why he said anything, ever. That was the whole point. That was why he was the way he is, how he’d gained the reputation he’d held; the complete lack of a verbal filter and utter disregard for civility.

“I was angry, man.” He answered. “Still am.”

“Your anger is fucked.” 

Axl turned away. Distantly, he knew that Izzy was trying to be helpful, but he didn’t need reminding that he’d probably kicked her away permanently.

“Told her it didn’t mean a fucking thing to me.” He whispered through clenched teeth, unable to drag his eye contact back to his friend. 

“God,” Izzy murmured. “You know you just broke her heart, right?”

Axl shook his head. “No, you weren’t there. She regretted it. I could see it.” 

Izzy rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking stupid. She probably fucking said that because the timing was shit. For fuck’s sake, she doesn’t even remember it.” 

And, for some reason, that realization hurt more than leaving her the morning before. It was like he had been guarding himself from the bitter truth, only to have it shoved down his throat so brutally he could hardly breathe. 

Maybe Izzy was right. 

They’d both been undeniably wasted that night, true, but he had never once doubted her affections; her interest. He had been confident in the fact that he had wanted her and that she, on some level, reciprocated that. 

But then, he thought back to the way she’d hissed at him to leave. The heat behind her gaze, the thickness in her tone. If she hadn’t regretted it when she’d first woken up, she surely had by then. The blistering screams returned to shriek in his brain. He was losing it. 

_ Tsk _ . The sound of Slash’s quiet sound of disagreement dragged Axl back to the present. 

His conversation with Izzy had taken place two days ago. Sometime within that period of time, he had explained what happened to Slash (and, thus, the rest of the band). 

“I’m sure you haven’t lost her. She probably just needs time to think.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Axl chuckled sarcastically. “The only thing  _ you _ think about when it comes to girls is the size of their tits.” 

Slash laughed, grabbing the bottle by the neck and bringing it to his lips. “You got me there.” 

Axl’s chuckle raised in volume. There was no other member of the band who had the ability to dash his concerns so effortlessly. Slash was a miracle worker in that sense. 

“But seriously, Val’s cool people.” He reasoned, looking over at Axl. “I think you should just wait it out a few days. Because, shit, man, the two of you aren’t gonna be able to stay apart that long. You haven’t since you met.” 

“I don’t know,” Axl doubted. “She doesn’t know that I—” 

That he  _ what _ ? Was entirely incapable of articulating his feelings? Of resolving a conflict without wanting to tear up the floorboards? 

That he was a nuclear bomb hurtling through the air, seconds away from decimating his surroundings at all times? 

“No, but you haven’t given her time to figure that out.” Slash reasoned. “And I know that  _ you _ know that you’re hard to handle when you’re angry. But she doesn’t.” 

He paused, taking a painfully long drag from his cigarette. “So on top of the fact that you probably just scared the shit out of her, you also hit one bump and went running.” 

He winced. That was what he hadn’t wanted to hear. 

Sighing, Axl sat up to speak but was cut off, “And you ran because it was the best thing for you to do, to maintain some shred of your fuckin’ dignity,” Slash explained. “But, again, she doesn’t know that. She doesn’t fucking know you like that, dude. Not yet. You can’t blame her for it, really.” 

“I know.” 

Axl swallowed hard. It felt like a ball of barbed wire dropped into the pit of his stomach. 

“So just give it time. When you’ve both calmed down, maybe you can talk about it. Or maybe you’ll just forget about it. Move on.” 

Slash’s faith in Axl’s ability to mend his relationships was entirely too flattering. When things broke, he never had the proper tools to fix them. 

“And if she doesn’t want anything to do with me?” He asked, allowing an ounce of vulnerability to leak into his words. He finally turned to face Slash. The cool breeze was blowing his curls across his face.

Slash shrugged, letting his palms slap against his thighs. The cigarette was pinched between his lips. “Then she’s not the one, man.” 

That felt like a punch to the teeth. Axl flinched. Over on the horizon, the sun was beginning to creep up. 

Another sleepless night. 

“You think she is?” Axl asked. 

“You’re the only one that would know.” Slash returned. 

He wasn’t sure if he even  _ wanted _ to, and yet, the lack of answer deflated his spirit somewhat. 

“But,” Slash added, spiking his pulse. “When we, you know, take off, you’re not gonna find a girl that looks at you— _ you _ —like that ever again. You should make that count for something.” 

Axl nodded, feeling the final piece of his strength shatter within him. “Fuck.” 

“Regret it?” 

“Yeah.” 

It was worse than coming down from any substance. More painful than any type of withdrawal, too.

“Think she knows that?” inquired Slash. 

“No.” He replied, truthfully. 

“Tell her.”

Suddenly, that was all that needed to be said on the matter. 

Apologizing was a foreign prospect to Axl. A daunting one, too. But he got the sense that it would be the only way to work on solving things with her. He missed her too much to wallow in his pride. And the guilt was too thick to dwindle his concerns. 

But he had reached the end of that path for the time being. 

Lighting another cigarette, Axl settled himself further away from the very edge of the ledge and turned his focus to the rising sun. 

The multitudes of colors—from the brilliant tangerines, to the dusty pinks—bled together to create a collage of hues so vibrant, he felt the stress all but dissolve from his body. It was the first time in three days that the persistent, unlabelled urge resting at the base of his skull silenced itself. 

And he didn’t say anything to Slash, unable to find the words to describe his sheer gratitude for the other man. But when Axl silently passed him a new cigarette after he had watched him throw the butt of his off the roof, he was almost certain that Slash understood it completely. 

* * *

When the sun had risen completely, covering his surroundings in a bright warmth, Axl climbed down from the roof. 

He left Slash there, ensuring that he was a safe distance away from the edge before he’d taken leave. The man had begun to nod off minutes before. 

Axl lowered himself beneath the exit hatch, stepping down the back flight of stairs. He ended up back on the main floor of the liquor store. It operated all night, but there were no patrons to be seen. Above him, the fluorescent bulbs emitted a low, dull buzzing. 

Quickly, he realized that Scott was no longer on the clock. He’d had no plans to thank him, but perhaps a nod of acknowledgement would have been the right thing to do. 

In his place was a middle-aged woman, who openly stared at Axl and frowned when she’d noticed where he’d come from. 

He didn’t give her the time of day, simply dropping his gaze and strolling out of the shop. He figured if he didn’t draw attention to himself, she wouldn’t either. 

And he was right. Axl escaped unbothered, the soles of his boots slapping against the gum-ridden pavement. 

He was still wearing his clothing from Friday. In his hand was the empty bottle of Jack Daniels that he hadn’t really meant to take with him. He’d showered at Izzy’s on Sunday morning, which—after Axl did some quick math—he realized was three days ago. It was Wednesday now.  _ Gross _ . 

Perhaps he could’ve borrowed some clean clothes from Izzy, though he hadn’t wanted to ask. He’d ruined enough of his morning as it was. 

He regretted that hesitation deeply now. He was about ready to claw the leather from his legs. 

Usually, he cared about his hygiene, too. But he couldn’t find it within himself to be that put off by it currently. It just wasn’t something he had stopped to think about over the past few days. Looking after his physical self had fallen to the bottom of the totem pole in terms of his priorities. It didn’t matter that his hair was so greasy that it laid completely flat on his head or that he was pretty sure his skin was beginning to mold against his jacket. 

(It turns out he  _ had _ brought a jacket up to the roof with him. He’d just forgotten. It seemed like he was increasingly losing track of himself these days.)

At least Axl had stopped to scrub off the dirt from Sunday’s ditch. That was better than nothing. 

He tried to stop and remember the last time he’d eaten a full meal or received more than an hour of sleep. It must have been Friday. Before everything had collapsed beneath him. 

Overall, everything from the past few days had begun to bleed together into a seeping mess. The memories were covered in a thick fuzz that made them hard to decipher. Most of Sunday into early Tuesday was entirely lost on him. 

Axl swiveled his neck around, surveying the area. He was standing directly on the corner; a central location. In every direction there were strings of drunks stumbling from clubs and wobbly hookers crawling back into their alleyways. If he squinted, he was sure he could pick out a drug exchange or two taking place. 

It seemed that, despite Axl’s recent inner upheaval, nothing had changed on the Strip; a fact that was both comforting and irritating. He wanted somebody to also experience his unceasing turbulence for once. He had never had anybody to share it with. 

A sudden urge formed in his head. 

He began walking in search of a motel. Tendrils of exhaustion were beginning to encroach upon him, making his limbs heavy and his eyelids burn. 

The past few nights he’d spent sleeping wherever he could place his head—a ditch, a roof, whatever was within easy access. But he got the sense that those wouldn’t suffice this time. He was going to actually put himself to sleep, not run until he inevitably caved in on himself. He was going to need a bed. 

And the Hell House was no longer an option, either. The boys had been formally evicted weeks ago, after ceasing their rent payments. Not that anybody cared too much. Up until a few days ago, it had never even crossed his mind. 

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to miss it. 

There were plenty of motels on and around the Strip, too, so he wasn’t worried. He just knew to avoid the vague direction of the one that Angie had taken him to. 

God, how long ago  _ that _ seemed. Axl briefly stopped to wonder how she was doing. 

If he came across her again, he wondered what he would do differently. 

_ Would _ he even do anything differently?

Axl’s eyes widened fractionally at his own train of thought. Exploding in his brain were memories from that damned night and how it might have been the only time, other than right now, that he felt like such a stranger in his own body. 

Yes, of course he would do things differently. Hell, he would have changed  _ everything _ . He wished he’d never even met her. 

Holy fuck, he needed sleep. 

A car horn blared at him. Peripherally, he saw that he was standing in the middle of the street. Two lanes of cars were frozen around him on all four sides, waiting for the green light. Axl halted momentarily in his tracks, buffering. 

_ When he had he crossed into the street?  _

“Hey, asshole!” A taxi driver situated at the front of the intersection yelled from his side window, sticking his head out to glare. “Get out of the fuckin’ road!” 

Axl snapped out of it. Stomping rightward over to the window, he bent his head down to reach the driver’s level. The man had a horseshoe mustache and chipped teeth. A jingling palm tree on the dashboard shook back and forth above the grumble of the engine. 

“Watch where you’re fuckin’ driving, you motherfucker! You hear me?” Axl shouted and slammed his hand on the yellow roof. 

The driver sneered at him. “Yeah, whatever, you fucking lunatic. I’ll just run you right into the ground next time.”

In the backseat was a huffing businessman that Axl barely spared a glance to. He didn’t look remotely frightened, just pissed off that he was probably late to whatever useless career task he needed to get done. 

“Hit me and see what happens.” Axl hissed, baring his teeth. “I’ll beat your ass, you fucking pussy.”

“Fuck off.” The driver stuck his head further out the window and spit at Axl’s feet before peeling off, tires squealing. 

Axl’s brain didn’t skip a beat this time. 

Readjusting the neck of the bottle in his hand, he wielded and hurdled it towards the trunk of the car. It collided and exploded in a kaleidoscope of clear glass, the echo resounding in the crisp morning air. 

“Fuckin’ bitch!” Axl roared. 

He worked to catch his breath. Only standing still for another few seconds, he then shuffled out of the intersection and continued on his way. Slowly, traffic picked itself back up. Bystanders barely even cast their glances to him. 

Though, he didn’t think he’d care if they did. 

Welcome to L.A.

As rapidly as he’d angered, he cooled off. There was no persistent rage boiling in his bones that threatened to keep him going for miles. He began to think he had become too thoroughly tired for that.

To both sides of him were an endless stream of bars and restaurants. It was temporary closing time for most of them, their lights dimmed and doors closed. In front of the Whisky, an employee was swapping out the letters on the Marquee. Axl didn’t recognize the name of the band. 

They probably sucked, anyway. 

There were little shops that dotted the area too. Those were open. Boutiques and touristlike attractions that he’d never actually stepped foot in, but he knew Slash had stolen from once or twice. 

To the west was where the other half lived. It was packed with gleaming office complexes, bookended by wealthy residential neighbourhoods, such as the Trousdale and Outpost Estates. It made Axl feel indescribably small and insignificant as he walked down those uneven, cracked squares of pavement. 

With no more than five bucks to his name, he knew the feelings were valid too. 

He, himself, had never actually been in a mansion, though, so it wasn’t like he was aware of what he was missing. But he and the boys used to drive past them when they’d first formed, sometimes even ducking into gated neighbourhoods when they didn’t have a car, just to look at them. They were usually drunk, spurting to each other that they’d have that for themselves one day. 

Axl smiled bitterly, shaking his head. Not  _ fucking  _ likely. He couldn’t even show up to practice. With the way things were going, he’d probably find himself turned out on Skid Row soon enough. A total  _ could have been _ . 

He felt as though he’d been working himself to the bone since he’d first moved here four years ago, with little reward. It had been a huge milestone to sign with Geffen back in March, but they’d been at a standstill since. And with the shows that they were actually able to book, they considered themselves lucky to be able to garner a crowd of a couple hundred. 

That wasn’t always going to be enough. 

Furthermore, there had been talks of recording a studio EP, but he hadn’t heard back. Axl fumed at the thought of those plans falling through.

The other boys weren’t yet getting dejected, but he could feel himself growing impatient. He was so tired of this back and forth, the toying with the idea of success before having it ripped from him. 

It seemed that everything was just falling apart, all at once. 

_ Did he even have enough cash for a motel fare?  _

He shrugged. 

Besides, he had a new, more pressing, problem to worry about. One that rooted him in his spot and sent his heart crashing into his stomach. 

He hadn’t been watching where he was going. Again. 

Somehow, he had ended up across the street from Shirley’s. The dilapidated white brick building nearly gleamed like a safe haven. Attached to the roof, the lit-up, yellow  _ Shirley’s _ was glowing. The ‘h’ flickered every few seconds. 

It must have been seven in the morning, because there she was, pushing her way out the front door. 

_ Valerie _ . 

He had not meant to cross her path, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to explain himself should she see him. So, without thinking, he ducked himself behind the nearest telephone pole, folding his limbs against his body. 

It did nothing to conceal him physically, of course, but it gave him enough peace of mind so that he didn’t lose his last ounce of composure. 

She didn’t see him. She didn’t even look in his general direction, really. In her one hand was a paper to-go bag—probably a pastry for Jill. In the other was a jean jacket. 

She had remembered to bring one. 

A new wave of heartbreak descended upon him. Okay. 

Valerie looked ethereal. The uniform was the same as always, but the yellow looked more vibrant than usual. It made her skin look rosy, angelic. He could see the hundreds of freckles that dotted her skin from a mile away; they were purely twinkling. The iced blonde strands of her hair were swept up and piled high on top of her head. Narrowing his eyes, he could see a pen tucked into the up-do as well. She was the epitome of that natural beauty that she always seemed to so effortlessly embody. 

God, he missed her. 

There was a light smile on her face, the kind that never had a particular reason for springing about. The kind that reflected true inner happiness. 

Just hours before, he had been begging to see her. He would have made a deal with the devil solely to be able to peek in on her and see what she was doing, how she was holding up. Now, he just felt foolish. He was so stupid to believe that she was as affected by the disintegration of their relationship on the same level that he was.

He knew that she’d been hurt, but it was clear that it must have been temporary pain. Valerie had moved on already. Thoughts of him didn’t keep her from going about her daily life. The strife didn’t cause her to lose sleep or want to single handedly flip the world on its head. 

And it wasn’t that he wanted her to be in anguish, per se, but it was like he said earlier; Axl just wanted to have somebody that would carry even a fraction of the burden he did. He didn’t want to be alone in facing the horrors of his mind any longer. He thought he’d finally found that solace in her. 

_ How wrong he was. _

He watched her continue down the street, her scuffed white sneakers pattering against the sidewalk. Axl had always taken care to escort Valerie home—even on the nights he couldn’t make it to Shirley’s. They both knew that the area wasn’t that safe, and even if he didn’t provide too much in terms of protection, the illusion was all that really mattered. To him, to her, and to anybody else that might cross their path that early in the morning.

Then, Val turned the corner and was gone. Axl knew he couldn’t go further than where he was currently standing, even if his intentions were in the right place. He supposed he was lucky enough that coincidence (or, perhaps, his own ignorance) had worked so thoroughly in his favor for this long. 

She was on her own, the way she had been prior to meeting him. 

See, she’d never really needed him. 

When he was sure that she was gone, he continued to move again. 

Taking a sharp right turn, he stumbled to the first motel he saw. Axl was now so entirely drained of energy that he didn’t care if it was absolutely covered in roaches and grime. He just needed a shower and a place to rest his body, if only for a few fucking hours. 

The place was called the Pink Flamingo Motel. It had a lopsided red vacant sign that, like the Shirley's logo, blinked in a staccato beat. The exterior was made of a cream-colored stucco that was covered in a green substance that looked curiously like algae. The yard was absolutely alive with crooked pink flamingos, most of which were tipped over. 

Digging into his pockets, he was pleasantly surprised to find a crumpled twenty dollar bill that would cover the expenses of the night. Axl didn’t know where it was from, or how long it had been there, but that was irrelevant. At least it seemed as though, if nothing else, he’d consistently had luck on his side over the past few days. 

Stepping up to the receptionist, he slapped the bill onto the counter and requested a single bed. He couldn’t explain anything about her in detail, given that he’d bent down to lean his forehead on the tabletop as soon as she began to set up the arrangements. The granite felt cool and refreshing against his hot, waxy skin. 

But there was one thing Axl was certain of, and that was the fact that the woman wanted more than anything for him to get out of her sight. 

Shoving the key across the counter, she practically spit out “Room 117, on your left”, before backing her chair away and gluing her hand to the phone on the desk. 

Not wanting to run the risk of a second potential run-in with the cops that week, Axl pressed down the urge to retort and grabbed the room key, grasping it firmly in his hand and stalking off down the hall to the left.

He had to jimmy the lock a little bit to get in, the fake wooden door needing a few shoves to unstick. It opened with a  _ pop! _ , nearly ready to fly off its hinges. 

Immediately he was greeted with a damp smell, the kind that always permeated run-down establishments like these. He kicked off his boots for the first time in three days. 

There was a single bed in the middle of the room, the dark floral sheets inviting him home like a hug. And pillows. Not one, but two. Two invitingly soft pillows that looked like a slice of heaven in comparison to the bumpiness of his jacket or the harshness of gravel-filled grass. 

He had to restrain himself, however, physically dragging his body away from the embrace he knew the mattress would give to his sore muscles. What he really  _ needed _ , more than anything, was a shower. Sleep would have to wait. 

Right off the entryway was the bathroom, which contained the basic necessities and nothing else. The tile was an ugly terracotta color, chipped in several places. The floor of the shower was tinted a flaxen yellow and the trim of the shower curtain was dotted with splotches of dark mold. 

Axl was unsurprised to find that he absolutely did not care. 

Pushing the squeaky nozzle of the shower all the way to the left, he stepped back as it heated up. 

He shucked off his leather jacket, the buckles and pins clashing against the floor as he kicked it away from his body. Then came the grey tank-top, which was ripped in more places than he originally believed; at this point, it was barely even a shirt. 

Reaching for the lacing of his pants, Axl undid the fly without thinking and began to peel the leather away from him. For a moment, he just wanted to revel in the satisfaction that task brought. 

Never had he ever thought it would feel so good to be completely unclothed. But, when he’d been running nonstop for the past four days in the same outfit, he didn’t suppose it was all that shocking. 

Axl paused to look in the mirror, the edges of which were already starting to cover themselves in a reflective sheen from the humidity.

He had two deep bruise-like prints beneath his eyes, giving him a withered, hollowed appearance. They were dramatic and bold; haunting. Axl looked ten years older than his age should have allowed. He felt so brittle; entirely vulnerable.

He was so goddamn tired. 

His hair was tangled and matted, too. So much so that there was probably no getting through that mess with just a single shower. There were sporadic pieces of grass and clumps of dirt woven into the red strands that were darkened with grease. 

Even if he’d  _ felt _ ghost-like inside, he hadn’t expected to appear so dead externally. 

Suddenly, Axl could no longer stand to look at himself. 

Turning away from the mirror, he ducked into the shower and let the hot water cover him completely. 

He felt the stress leave his body like a flood. The heavy pressure of the water hit against his skin, drilling imaginary holes into the surface. His muscles untensed, the sharp electricity fizzling down like the wick of a candle being snuffed out. 

His knees weakened, buckling. Axl’s back hit the tile roughly and he slid downwards, crashing against the shower floor without grace. Involuntarily, he curled himself into a ball and let the stream wash over him. He found that he would be more than content to just waste away the rest of his days here, beneath the constant comfort of the rain.

The sweat and dirt washed off of him, spiralling into the drain. If there were tears that went along with it, well, he could never confirm nor deny that. 

His hair stuck to the side of his face, plastered. He brought a hand up over his ear to prevent water from entering, the sound of it thrumming against the appendage was similar to the one made by holding up a seashell—the way his mother used to tell him to do when he was a child. 

Yet, he could hear no ocean. Only a sea of misery that ran thick and red with his own blood. 

Not having the motivation to scrub away the grime with a washcloth, Axl couldn’t do much more than bring up cupped handfuls of water to his skin and hope that it would be enough to cleanse himself of the filth. 

(He knew it would never be). 

It was nice there, on the floor. It treated him well and let him be. He could hear the echoes of his mind bounce against the surface, but he didn’t have to worry about being in anybody’s earshot. In this very moment, Axl was truly alone. 

So he let himself unravel. 

Whatever humanity he had lost in the Californian desert this time four days ago, he gained back by just letting himself go. 

And he didn’t gather himself back together until he knew, deep in the rattled core of his body, that there was nothing left for him to lose. 

Axl had smashed himself to pieces and now it was his responsibility to put himself back together.  _ Not hers _ . 

He cried and didn’t stop until he’d wrung himself dry. 

It was probably an hour later when he actually turned off the water. After his final meltdown, he dragged himself to his feet and went about washing his hair, scrubbing through it with the provided low-quality shampoo and conditioner; his fingers catching on every knotted strand.

He rubbed his skin dry with the gritty white washrag, hard enough to erase any trace of the fact that he had absolutely lost himself within a matter of days. Axl left the shower feeling clean. Whole. 

Utterly unable to even  _ consider _ putting those clothes back on, he toweled himself dry and climbed into bed naked. The future issue that he would, as of tomorrow, be without entirely without a set of functioning clothes didn’t resound with him. He made half-hearted mental plans to call Duff from the tableside payphone and ask him to bring him some when he woke up the next day. 

And even if the other man refused, Axl didn’t worry about it. Not right now. He didn’t want to. 

He had climbed beneath the covers, the weight of them like a thick cloud of serenity that sheltered his aching bones. The hair on his neck was cool and wet, keeping his perpetually fluctuating body temperature at bay for the time being. 

He was effectively empty inside—a complete hollow void—and yet, all that was important was the fact that he’d be getting his first proper sleep in days. 

Axl had no more to give. 

Not to the world, and certainly not to himself. 

His head hit the pillow. Then, all the lights went out.


	11. boiling point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> step inside the confession booth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to all those who read, comment, & leave kudos <3

_ Sunday, September 7th, 1986. _

Valerie made an agreement to meet Duff for drinks on Sunday afternoon. 

It was bordering on four in the afternoon and Valerie had only woken up an hour before, a fact that was apparent in her puffy, tired eyes. No amount of make-up could conceal them. 

Her shift had been a bitch last night; trudging on for what seemed like eight years rather than eight hours. The customers had been particularly prolific, the doorbell running itself into a frenzy as it attempted to keep up with the stream. 

On top of the bustle, they’d been ornery. Valerie liked to consider herself a patient waitress, but there was only so much she could tolerate when each patron nitpicked and found problems with nearly everything she presented. It wasn’t like what the cook offered was anything she had control over. She always made sure to double check her written orders before submitting them, too. 

That hadn’t seemed to matter. 

The mothers were impatient, the grandfathers were overly stingy, and the children were loud. Why anybody brought their children into a second-rate diner at three in the morning, she had no clue. That wasn’t even her aversion to children speaking, either. The whole situation was just a challenge for everyone involved. 

Worst of all, Ed had been breathing down her neck the entire time.  _ Literally _ . 

He sat at the front counter, his calculator and paper pad situated before him. Too tight glasses were perched on his nose as he crunched numbers and slurped loudly at his coffee, his watery eyes casting an investigative glare over the actions of his staff (which, last night, only consisted of Valerie and Manny, the cook). 

It was something he was usually able to do from the comfort of his squared-away side office, so she wasn’t sure why he had decided to take the long journey outwards. All she knew was that his presence made her anxious and uncomfortable. Usually, she didn’t overthink her performance. 

Actually, Val didn’t think she ran the risk of endangering her employment all that often, if at all. But there was something in the way Ed would shake his head almost imperceptibly everytime she was sent back to the kitchen window with incorrectly prepared food that made her jaw clench painfully. 

She couldn’t lose her job at Shirley’s. She just couldn’t.

As much as she loathed working for Ed and his run-down enterprise, it was the only thing that kept her stable. It was the only thing that kept all of the good parts of her life in place. No matter how staunchly she dragged her feet through the hours, she would never give it up voluntarily. 

Valerie supposed that it was entirely possible that Ed wasn’t even examining her performance at all last night. There were times—days in which she completed tasks much more successfully—that he would randomly emerge from his den and park himself elsewhere. If she was cooped up in a ten by ten office with half-broken blinds and an lingering smell of cigars and cheese, she would too. 

Yet, she couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that she should probably just start looking for a job while she was ahead. 

Beyond the several instances of incorrectly fulfilled orders, the fact that she had been entirely thrown out of whack wasn’t even her own wrongdoing. Honestly. 

It was  _ his _ fault that she couldn’t function properly, utterly  _ his _ fault that she was bored out of her fucking mind without an ounce of company or distraction to help pass the time, and completely  _ his _ fault that thoughts of him took up any and all space for necessary logic. 

Despite having happened nearly three weeks ago, she was still upset about the Axl ordeal. 

Although Valerie had let go of the fact that she didn’t remember anything, she had been able to piece together a few more pieces of the puzzle eventually; those tidbits mostly arriving in bursts of imagery that fizzled out as soon as they arrived. But after a day or two, that had been it. She had simply taken Axl’s word on what happened and moved on. 

Even if he would never again show face, he’d possessed no reason to lie to her that morning. 

She would learn to live with the realization that she wouldn’t get to keep the memories of the sole, most intimate moment they’d possessed. 

Plus, Val was sure that Axl would have given anything to trade realities with her. Which neither helped nor harmed her case. 

The initial, pulsating anger at his words had abated mostly, dripping down her throat to cultivate into one of the most severe bone-rattling aches she had ever experienced. She was hurt. 

Not because she didn’t have the memories, but because he did and didn’t want them. Just like he didn’t want  _ her _ . And judging by the way that she could barely get through her shift without yearning for the company of his cynical, bold judgement—the way she couldn’t bear the walk home without the guidance of his warm, sturdy hands—Valerie didn’t think she’d ever know how to move on from that.

Even if, more than anything, she wanted to.

She was so damn tired of thinking about him, of wasting her energy on him, when she knew that she was probably less than a figment of his imagination by now. 

For that reason, Val wasn’t exactly sure of why she was going through with her plans to meet with Duff. 

They were friends in their own right, of course—it’d been long enough that they no longer needed Axl as a leg to stand on, but still. She was sure she’d end up looking like a fool for accepting the invite. What else did they have to talk about besides him? 

Sure, they no longer had use of him as a middle man, but at this point, he was still the only thing they’d had in common. 

Well, that wasn’t true, but Valerie was nearly certain that she and Duff’s habit of trying to drink the other under the table didn’t facilitate enough content to fill a thorough conversation. 

Maybe as the night went on, however…

She saw Duff sitting at a small table on the patio. He was leaned up against the back of his chair, a beer bottle already secured in his hand. When his eyes caught on her, his face lit up and he waved her over. 

As she rushed her way towards him, her troubles fell away. Her anxiety disappeared into the void of useless matter that cluttered in some untapped pocket of her brain. 

None of the boys demanded too much effort from her, but Valerie found that she liked hanging around Duff especially because he always provided some sort of entertainment. Whether that was a party or conversation, it didn’t matter. Without having to put thought into things, she still felt her brain being stimulated in his presence. He was never boring and he wasn’t difficult to deal with. 

He was easy.

Her concern over feeling out of place was trivial now. Duff greeted her with open arms, dragging her wobbly metal chair out across the scraped patio and shaking it. 

“Went ahead and ordered your first round, that alright?” He asked, gesturing to vodka cranberry that sat in the middle of the table. 

There was a wide water ring forming on the napkin. Valerie briefly wondered how early he’d showed up—she, herself, was five minutes early. 

Then again, she supposed happy hour was a continuous cycle for him. 

Valerie smiled wide. “That’s perfect, thanks. Been here long?”

Taking her seat, she sipped the drink and crossed her legs. He shrugged. “Eh, ‘bout a half an hour. Didn’t miss much.”

She glanced over at the two empty bottles he’d lined up at the edge of the table. “Yeah, looks like it.” 

He chuckled lightly, a feigned look of bashfulness covering his features. “You doing good?” 

“Eh,” Miming him, she looked away. 

Valerie found that her consistent fatal flaw was her inability to make eye contact. It always gave her away. She bit down on her lip, waiting for the skin to break open before she responded. 

“Work’s been shitty. But, hey, I’m off tonight, so there’s that.”

He lifted his drink in agreement. “There’s that.” 

“You?” Valerie asked. When she ran her tongue across her bottom lip, it stung. 

“Good, I’d say. Nothing significant, which is  _ definitely _ good.” 

“Stayed out of jail then?” Valerie joked. 

“For now.” He grinned playfully, laughing. 

When his body stopped shaking from the effort, the casual smirk on his face slipped downwards. “But really, Val. How are you doing?” 

“Like I said, work’s been a bitch, but I’m getting by—” 

“No,” He interrupted, waving a hand. “I mean, it’s been a few weeks since we’ve seen you after,  _ you know _ , everything’s happened; haven’t even heard from you, actually. So, I just wanna—” 

“Duff,” Valerie sat up and he sliced himself off with a discreet cough. “I appreciate the effort, I do. But I didn’t come here tonight to talk about Axl. I’m tired of talking about Axl.” 

That was a lie if she ever heard one, but she couldn’t talk about him without wanting to break down in tears or dissolve in a pit of fiery rage. 

“Alright, that’s fine. I get it, I get it.” Duff accepted, raising his hands in mock surrender. 

She nodded, relaxing slightly as he knocked back the rest of his drink. Valerie twisted the coffee stirrer in her glass and listened to the ice rattle. A half-tense, half-comfortable silence drifted over them. 

It didn’t last long. 

“No, fuck that. I just gotta say one thing.” Duff spoke. 

“ _ Duff— _ ” 

“Come on, just hear me out.” He insisted. “There’s one thing you gotta know about Axl.” 

As he spoke, he ran his hand through his light hair. The mid-September sun was still beating down hot, despite the brisk chill in the air, and glinted off the metal of his rings. 

Valerie had never pretended to know everything about Axl. In fact, one of her favorite things about being with him was the very notion that she didn’t think she ever would. 

There was always something new to discover; a childhood memory to unlock, a curious facial expression to decipher. She had understood immediately that he was a perpetually shifting work in progress. There had never been a sign indicating that she’d ever be able to pin him down, no matter how hard she tried. 

He was constantly evolving into something different, toggling between distinct skins. Infuriatingly complex, Axl was a puzzle that she had finally just begun to sort as the pieces were sent flying off the board. 

Plus, she didn’t want others telling her what to think about Axl. Or worse, how to feel about him. Because another thing she was absolutely certain of was that he presented himself a little differently to each person he knew. Not because he was inconsistent or concealing something, of course, but because he was so skilled at adapting to what the situation required. To the fullest extent of the word, he was a chameleon. 

He was able to be what the room required, no matter if that was the vulgar frontman who chewed up the world whole or the attentive friend who kept her company in the slowest of times, when she had needed it most. 

These facets were uncontrived, but simultaneously unintegrated. He could keep them separate while somehow always staying true to himself. 

Axl’s best skill was his ability to be what the other person needed, without fail. The charisma flowed from him freely, dripping down her skin and sticking to the surface like honey. 

But that also meant that the version of Axl that Duff knew wasn’t the same one that she did. 

Duff wasn’t there that morning, he didn’t know the words that were hurled between the two of them (regardless of levels of intent). No matter the excuses and reasonings he would attempt to lay on her, he would never understand the magnitude of hurt she was so thoroughly afflicted by. Because he would never know Axl in the way  _ she _ did. 

He would never feel for Axl the things Valerie did. Duff didn’t have a slice of his humanity torn to shreds and lit on fire at his feet. He would never experience the tidal wave of anguish that was coursing through her veins at the thought of losing something so precious. 

She was unable to put that into words, however.

“Yeah, what’s that?” 

Resigned, she slumped her shoulders and swallowed a few large gulps of the vodka. She was impatient in waiting for it to take effect. 

“The things he says when he’s angry, he—” Duff frowned slightly, tilting his head, “He hardly means them.” 

She blinked.

“That’s it?” Valerie demanded. “That’s what you’re going with? That he just fucking says things in the heat of the moment? Really? Do you have any idea of the fucking  _ shit _ he said to me?” 

“Oh, I do. And that’s why I’m confident when I say that he didn’t mean a fucking word of it.” Duff responded. 

He turned and gestured for the waiter, who rushed over and collected the three empty bottles on the table, promising to return with another. 

“Yeah, well. That’s not good enough for me.” 

“I’m not saying it has to be, just know that he’s wrecking himself over it. I don’t know the specifics, of course, and I’m not gonna pretend to—” 

She felt her heart twinge with something sharp and unnamed. Covering it with a thick layer of indifference, she rolled her eyes. “Exactly. He doesn’t get to brush me off and call me fucking  _ insane _ for daring to get angry after the hell he put me through. He was the one that said that it didn’t matter.  _ Him _ . Not me.” 

“But you called it a mistake, didn’t you?” Duff asked, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Because I thought he’d think so. I was saving myself from the embarrassment. And he said it was, so I wasn’t wrong.” 

Valerie knew that she was growing defensive. She was powerless to stop it. Another flaw. 

Duff shook his head. His expression was crestfallen. 

“What?” Valerie asked, apprehensive. 

“You shouldn’t have assumed that he thought anything.” He said. “You know that more than anyone.” 

“No I fucking don’t,” she retorted. 

“You do.” Duff asserted, blowing past her disagreement. “He called it a mistake because you did.” 

“And not giving a shit about it, what’s that supposed to mean, then? I think it was ill-timed, sure, but I never said it didn’t mean anything.” Val spat, looking away. 

She hadn’t wanted to get angry. She’d only just succeeded in stomping out those feelings which had lingered in her lungs for weeks. 

Duff broke off to accept the outstretched beer bottle from the waiter, who also placed another vodka cranberry in front of her. She hadn’t even realized she’d finished her first. Valerie thanked the man with a tight smile. It was all she could manage.

“Like I said, he doesn’t mean the things he says when he’s angry. He was so sure that you were uninterested that pushing you away completely was the only way to save face. You can’t blame him for that.” 

Val picked up her drink, the condensation coating her palm. “Oh, why not?” 

“You just told me you did the same.” 

The rope in her core began to fray. She could feel herself unwinding slowly, spiralling. Jill had mentioned this, but Valerie hadn’t believed her. 

She still didn’t. 

“He’s a grown man, if he felt that way he should have said something. I’m not a damn mind-reader.” Her voice was breaking. Weakening. 

_ Could it be? _

“Well that’s where we reach the problem.” Duff said.  He shifted, leaning back and sprawling his legs outwards.  “Axl, he—” 

He broke off, features steeped in a thick consideration, “He doesn’t abide by the rules of humanity like that.” 

Valerie raised her eyebrows at the dramaticness, but didn’t interrupt. 

“You and I, when we reach a misunderstanding,” Duff continued. “We’ll talk it out and come to an agreement, a clarity. Whereas Axl, when he feels as though he’s gonna get hurt—or in this case,  _ rejected _ —he lashes out so he’s not the only one who has to feel that way.”

Tears burned behind her eyes, gathering along her waterline. 

“Calling me a crazy bitch, telling me I couldn’t handle the coke because it led to what it did, what was that then? Just nailing the coffin lid shut?” 

“Essentially, yeah.” 

A droplet escaped the outer corner of her eye and she covered it by tipping her head back and finishing off half of her drink. 

Duff must have seen it, however, because his face became sympathetic. Or pitying, perhaps. She couldn’t tell. Maybe a cruel mix of both. 

She didn’t want to see either. 

“But he’s also just an asshole.” He tacked on. 

Valerie laughed half-heartedly, shaking her head. She’d known  _ that _ since day one, but until that damned Saturday, she’d been mostly immune. As though it really were a front that he put on for everybody but her. 

In some ways, she supposed it still was. She was no longer as convinced, though.

“You know,” Duff announced, “I can’t vouch for everything he says. I’m not gonna pretend like his words don’t hurt, either. Believe me, Val, they cut like fucking knives. But—”

She wiped the tears from her face and shook her head vigorously, “No, don’t say it.” 

He complied and cut himself off. She was grateful, wholly unable to confront the reality that everything had seemed to be one ginormous instance of miscommunication. 

It couldn’t be. 

He just didn’t want her. 

Even if that morning had gone differently, they would have reached the same conclusion. It just would have gutted her in a completely different way. Same death, different weapon. 

She could feel a familiar fuzziness in her brain now, a soothing static. 

Valerie raised her head, suddenly unconcerned that her face was drenched in her own misery. “I’m sorry, by the way.” 

He paused with the bottle halfway to his lips. “What for?” 

“Crying, first of all.” She paused to accommodate his laugh. “But, you know, he’s your friend and I’m some random girl you met in a diner. It’s not your responsibility to take care of my feelings or compromise your loyalty to him.” 

“Calling him out on his bullshit is a full-time job on principle. Sure, it’s who he is, but he can’t get off running around and hurting people scot-free.” Duff explained earnestly. “Plus, you’re my friend. I care how you feel.”

“Drinking buddy.” Val corrected, a mischievous smirk on her face. 

“Ah, depends on the time of day.” He conceded. “Speaking of, you want another?” 

She nodded. “Maybe something stronger, actually.” 

Duff nodded and whistled for the waiter. The man from earlier simply placed down a round black tray dotted with ten shots and walked off. Talk about service. 

Ed would be proud. 

“Alright.” He said, sitting up and scooching his chair in further. “Slash and I got into this stuff a few weeks ago. It’s tequila from God knows where but it’s absolutely  _ wicked _ .”

“I’m in.” Valerie responded simply and pushed her hair behind her ears. 

“Yeah, you fuckin’ say that now. Hope you don’t got any plans tonight because you won’t be feeling anything in a few minutes.” He emphasized and downed the rest of his beer in one go. 

“I’m  _ in _ .” She reiterated and smiled wide. 

“No chasers.” Duff dared. 

“Fuck.” Valerie murmured and faced the tray, “Fine, challenge accepted.” 

She pushed down the first three with no hesitation or difficulty. But he was right, the tequila was devilish. It was just what she needed. 

Valerie’s hand shook as she reached for the fourth, the pressure of her fingers sending some of the liquid sloshing over the side. 

“Holy shit.” He breathed, casting his eyes over the three overturned shots on the table. His fourth glass was perched between his fingers, trembling as well. 

Valerie laughed. “Okay. 1...2…” 

They tossed it back. Her throat was numb at this point, barely registering the burn. A few quick blinks rid her eyes of the urge to squeeze shut. 

When she went to reach for the fifth and final glass, Duff cut her off. “No, no. Save it, save it.” 

“Need a break, McKagan?” She taunted. It didn’t really have the desired effect, her words were slurred and her tone was bubbly. 

“Yeah.” He returned, rubbing his eyes. 

Valerie didn’t dispute that. Even if she wouldn’t admit it, she felt like her organ systems were about to give way completely. 

The sun had begun to set. A tangerine glint was spreading over the patio, covering them in a warm, hazy feeling. Her senses were already dialed down several notches and the thick heat was now enough to squeeze her dry of any energy. It was one of the final days of summer. 

A certain wistfulness draped over her shoulders. A certain sadness. 

“Seriously though,” Duff drawled, the syllables bleeding together, “I don’t know what he’s told you but Axl’s had a pretty rough go of things. He doesn’t open up easily. Or at all, really, that bastard. He’s very hard to know.” 

“Oh, believe me—” Val muttered. 

“Hell, we’re fucking bandmates— _ brothers _ —and I can’t tell you shit about what goes on in that fucking brain of his. But what I can say is this,” 

“You don’t have to,” She protested weakly. Her tongue felt like an anvil in her mouth. The pressure of her emotions on her bones paired with the heaviness of the alcohol in her veins weighed her down. Valerie was exhausted. She needed a break; a moment of goodness. 

“He didn’t mean what he said, Val. He thinks the fucking world of you. The guys and I have been saying this, but we’ve never seen him so goddamn crazy over a girl.” He paused to breathe heavily. 

“The way he’ll sit with you all night, that's...that’s fucking  _ unbelievable _ , is what it is. He’s figuring how to keep ahold of you and—while I know it’s not your job to know what he’s thinking and to act accordingly—he’s just so damn scared of the idea that you’ll give up on him.” 

The tears threatened to return. “I don’t want to.” 

Duff shrugged. “So don’t.” 

She huffed. As if it were that easy. As if she had the ability to sink her hands into him and pull him close, securing him so tight in her arms that he’d never have the opportunity to fall loose. 

There was no way for Valerie to tuck Axl away in her heart and lock him there, no matter how desperately she wanted to. The entirety of the beating, bloody organ in her chest was cleared-out and hollow; a space that was molded to fit the shape of him and  _ only _ him. 

She didn’t think he’d ever find his way home to her. 

Forcing herself to pause, she reevaluated her thoughts. Even if Duff’s words held a small semblance of truth, it didn’t necessarily mean Axl reciprocated things to the extent that she did. 

That was the killer. 

_ That _ was what kept her up at night, tossing and turning and unable to find inner peace.

“I just can’t help but think that one day he’ll wake up and mean what he said.” 

Valerie had lived through the experience of no longer being wanted. She’d been through it when her friends fled and scattered after high school. When Danny had realized that he could find something better than a promiscuous cheerleader with a dysfunctional family;  _ someone _ better. 

And while she may have been the one to finally leave her mother, the woman had let go years before. That weak tether had never stood a chance. 

Her father, too. Even though he’d been gone before the braces had come off in junior high—before she’d even had time to grow into herself. 

Being used up and abandoned was one of the things she was most closely acquainted with. Just look at every person she had ever held near and dear to her; gone. As if there was something deep in the roots of her body that repelled intimacy. 

Valerie wasn’t unfamiliar with the idea of losing all contact and not having a trail to follow, but she didn’t think she had the strength to live through it again. All but a few of her heartstrings had been completely severed. 

She didn’t want to believe she made a mistake by giving Axl the power to wield the knife. Because one more heartbreak and that was it. It’d collapse on itself fully. 

“I just,” Val broke off, wiping her eyes. “I feel too much for him.” 

Duff made a throaty noise of contradiction. 

“I don’t think you can ever feel too much for a person.” His features were taught, his mannerisms oddly careful. “It’s the same way you can’t ever feel nothing. A person’s in your life and you’re bound to  _ feel _ something for them, one way or another. There’s no limit and there’s no way around it.” 

That was something she’d have to ponder later; she loathed that it  _ felt _ right. 

“So I should be glad it’s love and not hate then, right?” Valerie asked offhandedly. 

His eyes widened exponentially. She didn’t even reflect on her words until a soft, subtle  _ woah _ fell from his lips. 

Shit. 

“That’s not what I meant. Forget I said that.” 

Her mind went into panic mode. 

Something she hadn’t even admitted to herself—or  _ considered _ , really—had just slipped out like it was nothing. Fuck. 

_ Fuck! _

“I’m so fucking drunk, I don’t even know what I’m saying.” 

When Duff had managed to close his mouth, a lopsided smile took form. “Shit, me too.” 

She threw her head into her hands. There was absolutely, positively no way to recover from this. Duff was going to go home to the boys and tell them that she was in love with their lead singer like some infatuated groupie and that would be the end of things.

Well, she supposed she’d had a fun time while it lasted. She couldn’t wait to go home and never resurface again. 

“One last thing and then we’ll move on.” Duff began, pulling forward and scraping his chair against the cement patio. “If you’re gonna believe anything I say tonight—or remember, I guess, make it this: once he’s in, he’s in for life.” 

She rose her head up, her eyes locking with the soft hazel irises of his. 

“You’ve got him, I know that. He won’t let go until you do. Maybe not even then.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Mom said to never trust a drunk man, but we’re both fucking trashed so it cancels out.” 

An odd sentiment, but she laughed nonetheless. 

“He’s waiting, Val. For when he’s sure. For the right time. How about you meet him halfway?” 

Valerie nodded numbly. 

She received a strong burst of energy, regardless of being halfway to completely wasted. She didn’t think she’d have the patience to wait for him to come to her. 

If it was what it took, she’d hurdle herself directly into the blazing sun. 

But the sun was set now and she wasn’t nearly drunk enough. She grabbed her vodka cranberry and finished it off, slapping her hand on the rickety metal table and blurting suddenly, “Alright, I’ll race you on the last one.” 

Reaching for the lone upturned shot glass, she quirked a quizzical brow. 

Duff smiled. “You’re  _ on _ .”

* * *

After they polished off the tray, Duff walked her back to the apartment. 

Correction. 

She and Duff  _ stumbled _ back to the apartment. 

It had taken longer than necessary, the pair of them tripping over each other’s limbs and giggling the entire way back. Several times, they had to stop and rest against the rough walls of the booming nightclubs to catch their breath; chests heavy. 

Everything had been mind-bogglingly funny, even if they had no real, solid grasp on reality. 

Valerie finally detached her elbow from Duff’s at some time before midnight, yet it was clear that the man’s night was far from over. He spun down some random alley and was gone, the large sound of his laugh bouncing off the walls of the buildings. 

He’d invited her to join, but deep down, she knew she wouldn’t last. She was unsteady on her feet and things were blurry. She needed to get home and unwind. 

How she would go about doing that, however, she was unsure. 

She wrestled with her keys in the lock for a few minutes, unable to align the metal piece with its slot. Simply getting the key to touch against the lock and not just scrape at the door surrounding it took a few attempts. 

Forcing it open roughly, she saw that Jill was still awake. The only indicator of that was her propped open bedroom door. She was nowhere to be seen in the actual main stretch of the apartment. 

Swiveling her head around, Valerie saw that the bathroom door  _ was _ closed. Jill must have been taking a bath. Val knew that she preferred night baths, claiming that it was the best time to decompress. 

Whatever that meant.

“Jill!” She shouted loudly, neglecting courtesy for their neighbours, “I’m home!” 

“You drunk?” Jill yelled back. Distantly, she could hear the splashing of water. 

“No!” Valerie lied, before wandering over to the kitchen and pulling the fridge open. 

The bottles in the side door rattled under her force, jangling loudly. The fridgelight was the only sort of illumination besides the twinkling of the nightscape beyond the windows. It eclipsed the room in a soft glow, the burst of cold air summoning goosebumps to rise on her exposed legs.

She was starving, yet nothing looked particularly appetizing. There was leftover pasta from a few nights ago that she supposed she could heat up, but there was nothing to go with it. Valerie didn’t trust herself to operate a knife. 

_ Oh well _ . 

She sighed and pushed the bowl of noodles into the microwave, pressing random buttons and starting it. While it hummed and rotated, she stood in silence. 

It wasn’t too late in the evening and she couldn’t sleep for another eight hours. She had time to kill, lots of it. And she was abruptly in an uncharacteristically bubbly mood. Her time with Duff had only served to remind her just how much she’d missed hanging out with the guys. Amidst the constant back and forth with Axl, it had never really set in how much she enjoyed their presence.

Perhaps she would call Izzy. It was the easiest way to get a hold of him after all, and these  _ were _ his prime hours. 

Even if Duff provided the most fun for Valerie, Izzy was her favorite of the other boys to talk to.

He  _ did _ require effort, though. She actively had to put thought into the words that were exchanged between the two of them, given that he seemed to often exist on a plane entirely separate from her. (Neither higher nor lower, just farther out). It seemed as though he understood things to an extent at which she would never begin to fathom. 

He had complex opinions on the most trivial of things, ones that were hard to excavate. It was akin to chipping away at a rock to find diamonds within.

She hadn’t talked to him since that Friday night, either, which had been odd. She hadn’t even realized she missed it until she’d been reminded of it. 

The microwave beeped and dragged her from her thoughts. 

Removing the pasta, she picked up a fork and stirred the noodles. The food was piping hot, tendrils of steam curled up to brush against her skin. 

Grabbing the open bottle from the table, she poured herself a glass of red wine and walked aimlessly to the couch, plopping against the pillows. 

The action caused her stomach to sink to the floor of her body. Axl’s absence had left an irreparable crater in the atmosphere of the apartment. He’d only lived here for about a month, and yet, she could feel his desertion wrapped around her like a bitter ghost. 

She missed walking out of her room and finding him strewn out on the couch, one arm thrown over his face as he blocked the rays of midday sunlight that crept through. He would only linger for a little bit after that, filling her in on where the daylight would take him, on whether or not he’d be able to make her shift at Shirley’s that night. His voice would be thick with sleep and raspy; comfy. His long hair would be tousled gently.

No longer was Axl’s worn leather jacket thrown haphazardly over the arm of the chair, nor was his same pair of toppled cowboy boots perched by the door. There wasn’t an overstuffed ashtray sitting on the patio, where they’d carry their conversations after Jill kicked him out each time without fail. 

Valerie no longer had to reassemble the throw pillows into their place every morning, when he’d forget to do so. She didn’t have anybody to pester about recycling, either, since Jill always abided by the rules. There was nobody who sifted through the crates of records on the floor and complained their way through the stacks. 

There was nobody who left the toothpaste uncapped and their toothbrush on the sink, feet away from the canister that sat by the faucet. 

(She still had his toothbrush though, the green stick sitting in a baggie in the back of the cabinet beneath the sink.  _ Just in case _ , she told herself. Even if she knew otherwise.) 

She ate breakfast alone, too. Just like she was eating dinner now. 

That wasn’t to ignore Jill’s presence, of course, but the specific things she yearned for couldn’t be fulfilled by her. They just couldn’t. 

To press away the encroaching sadness, she stuffed herself with a few mouthfuls of spaghetti and washed it down with the wine. The fogginess that permeated every square inch of her brain hadn’t let up in the slightest. Jill didn’t like when people ate anywhere other than the table, too, so she figured she better do it fast. 

Then, to put off idle boredom, she solidified her decision to call Izzy. Valerie stood and grabbed the phone. 

Talking to him was also a foolproof way to rid oneself of sadness, purely because he didn’t put up with extended periods of angst. He didn’t have the patience nor empathy for it. Valerie was nearly sure he’d rather sit through nonstop hours of silence from both ends of the phone than listen to her bemoan her feelings. 

She rolled her eyes. Only Axl would have her divulging her innermost feelings over the landline like some cheesy flick they played at the theater. 

Smiling, her plans for the conversation shifted. She also knew that Izzy was never opposed to listening to her complain about Axl. Whether it was entertainment for him or a convenient excuse to do the same, she didn’t know. It just worked. 

Izzy, himself, didn’t have a phone, but his girlfriend did. She spun the rotary and waited, swaying on her feet. 

For a moment’s hesitation, Val paused to wonder if he was even still seeing that same girl. She’d hoped he was. Her number was her only connection to him. 

She liked Jessica, too. 

Swallowing another bite of the scalding pasta, she crossed her fingers. If anybody picked up, it was going to be Izzy. Jessica worked nights. 

It rang three times, then clicked. There was a shifting of static.

_ Success! _

“Hey, Iz. It’s Val.” Her words were definitely blurring together, but not debilitatingly so. 

There was a long beat of silence from the other end. That wasn’t uncommon. Another thing about Izzy was the fact that he lived at his own speed. One that was usually much slower than other people. 

He talked slow, moved slow. 

And he was almost always high out of his mind, which didn’t help to quicken the pace.

“Hello?” She repeated loudly. “Or is this Jessica? You said you worked Fridays, but hello, if so.” 

More silence. Valerie couldn’t even hear breathing. 

If she wasn’t so fucking drunk, she might have registered how blatantly awkward this was turning out to be. 

Given the current circumstances, she carried on deterred. 

“Anyways, I saw Duff today. We had lots to talk about. Want me to bore you with the details?” 

There was no response again. Now she was growing impatient. 

“Okay, is there anybody even fucking  _ here _ ? Because I’ll hang up if you don’t want—” 

“Val.” 

She felt her lungs grind to a halt, the pausing of her gears giving off an audible screech. Pure hysteria bloomed in her chest. 

_ What the fuck?  _

She couldn’t bring herself to speak. The skin of her cheek that was pressed against the phone became clammy.

“Val?” He asked again. “You there?” 

_ Axl. _

“Oh—” Her body was going haywire, every individual system sent into upheaval. She didn’t know what to do. So she hung up and notched the phone back into the cradle, back-peddaling until she hit the sofa and collapsed onto it. 

For a moment, she worked to regain her oxygen, only to have it thrown off again when the phone rang. 

_ Shit _ . Maybe she could just ignore it?

“Val!” Jill shouted from the bathroom. “Could you get that? I’ll be out in, like, twenty.” 

Great. 

Gulping audibly, she stood on shaky legs. “Uh, yeah, sure.” 

Her voice warbled and she hoped with all of her being that Jill wouldn’t be able to detect it. The phone rang again. 

Before she reached back out for the device, she picked up her glass of wine and drained it. She wondered if it were possible for her to reach blackout level in the five seconds it took to reach the phone. 

She pressed down the lump in her throat and lifted it off its hook. 

“Hello?” 

“Val.” 

Her initial shock had overpowered the comfort she usually received at the sound of his voice. Now, it was the only thing she noticed. She was an idiot for thinking she could ever go without it. 

“Yeah?” 

“You called.” He stated. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I wanted to talk to Izzy but it’s—” She broke off, cringing. “It seems like he’s not there. Sorry to bother.”

Valerie moved to pull the phone away from her face, but the pouring of his voice from the speaker immediately prompted her to drag it back upwards. 

“—No, no. Wait.  _ Wait _ .” He rushed.

Her heart leapt in her chest. “What?” 

“You...you said you saw Duff today?” He asked, tentatively. There was something lacing his tone, but she couldn’t decipher it. 

“Oh, yeah. We had a few drinks at that one corner pub he’s always talking about. You know the one—”

“Yeah.” Axl filled in. 

“Yeah, that one.” 

This time she definitely noticed the awkward silence that lingered in the air. But she was still so out of sorts that she didn’t have a single clue about what to fill it with. 

“Lots to talk about, huh?” 

She could hear him shifting the phone, readjusting. God, she just wanted to hang up and sink beneath the floorboards. 

“Mostly you.” The words were plain, but true. 

Valerie had never been skilled in holding her tongue around him. It had never mattered whether she was sober or wired on coke. He had consistently had that effect on her. As if his ability to see directly through her flesh and into the pockets of her soul warranted him of the automatic access to her truth as well. 

She’d lied to him only once before and look where  _ that _ had gotten her. 

“Oh.” He whispered softly. 

“Well, you weren’t supposed to be the one to pick up.” Valerie clarified, then furrowed her brows. “Why did you? Pick up, I mean.” 

Her body had tensed itself instinctively in the opening minutes of the conversation. As he pondered his answer, she worked on unwinding the taut muscles. 

“Crashing here tonight.” 

_ Ah _ . It’d taken her a week to remember that by kicking him out, she had essentially rendered him homeless. She had been the one to beg him to leave the Hell House, to give up his sole source of shelter (even if it was barely that), only to then rip the rug from beneath him. 

“I’m sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t think—” 

It had been something she’d hardly considered in the moment, when the cloud of anger had been thick and potent. Now, it was what she’d regretted most. 

Axl brushed her off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing new.” 

Her heart crunched in her chest. 

“Do you do that often, then? Staying with Iz?” Valerie asked, twirling the cord of the phone around her finger. 

“Eh, some nights. I mostly just bounce around.” Axl responded. His tone was bored, distant. It was missing that note of enthusiasm that had always made her feel  _ seen _ by him. 

“But you’re doing okay?” She bit her lip in the exact spot she’d broken open earlier. The blood was tangy on her tongue. 

“Yeah.”

Duff had said that Axl had wanted to come back to her. In return, she’d promised Duff that she would meet him halfway. But Valerie hadn’t anticipated it to be nearly so soon, when she was frazzled beyond recognition and wholly unprepared in terms of what to say. 

She didn’t buy his response, either, and her lack of inhibitions prevented her from letting it slide. “Yeah?” 

_ What did she want him to say? _ That he was miserable without her? That he was steeped in a regret and agony so thick it prevented him from experiencing happiness? 

Valerie was pretty sure that, on some level, she just wanted him to be affected by the distance like she was. 

Maybe it was something that the two of them had in common; not wanting to feel things alone. 

Axl exhaled. It was a sound she’d never heard over the phone before. It drifted over her like waves crashing harshly onto the shore before smoothing over the sand.

“No. But I’ll get there.”

A hammer directly to the throat would have hurt less. She was absolutely certain of that. She shouldn’t have asked. 

“I’m sorry, Axl. God, I’m so—” She had lost count of the amount of times that night that tears had sprung to her eyes. But unlike earlier, she didn’t even attempt to hold them back, they now fell down her face freely. 

“Val, please. It’s not your fault. We both fucked up.” He reassured in a level tone. He was so calm, so utterly unaffected, that it scared her. 

Scratch that, it fucking  _ terrified _ her. 

“But it is, that’s what you don’t understand,” She wept. The remorse spilled from every orifice of her body, pooling into a puddle of sorrow at her feet. “The things I said, I hadn’t meant them. I didn’t mean any of it. We could have avoided  _ everything _ .” 

The words were falling from Val’s lips uncontrollably now. She was spewing so much lament into the receiver, hoping that he would understand and accept just a fraction of it. She was just so  _ sorry _ . 

“I know.” 

He knew. 

It didn’t make this any fucking easier. She felt as though he was driving the knife she’d given him right into the ventricles of her heart, puncturing them. The life drained from the hole in her chest without hindrance. 

“Then you know that I’d lied.” Valerie agonized. “When I said that—” 

“I do.” 

“Okay.” 

She was more than aware that the disappointment was palpable in her voice, her words breaking off unsteadily. Her expectations, while hastily put together, hadn’t been high. And yet, she still had expected something more. Or, after everything Duff had said earlier that night, that he would at least care somewhat. 

Val could sense him signing off, too. He was washing his hands of her. 

Axl sighed again. “S’that all?” 

“What? Oh. Yeah. Sorry…” She muttered through clenched teeth. “Sorry to keep you.” 

The tears that slipped through were warm and salty, mixing uncomfortably with the open wounds on her bottom lip. 

He chuckled softly, the sound akin to a strike of the match meant to light her insides ablaze. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

“Sorry.” She responded reflexively, then squeezed her eyes shut in weariness.

Another short laugh and then, “Goodnight.” 

No  _ Goodnight, Val _ . 

“Night.” She whispered. 

The concept of parting was painstaking. She felt ripped open and flayed alive, more distant from him than ever before. The aloofness that licked at his tone caught her profoundly off guard.

If she didn’t fight to keep a hold of him now, she’d lose him entirely. Valerie couldn’t have him slip through her fingers. Not this time. 

_ Oh, fuck it _ . 

“Wait.” She choked, pressing the phone so hard to the side of her face it would leave a divot. “ _ Wait _ , Axl! Axl?” 

“Yeah?” He called. There was a new lilt in his tone. It wasn’t hopefulness, but perhaps, an ounce of interest. 

She was supposed to meet him halfway. And, fuck, this had to be it. 

“I’m sorry.” Her speech was slurred, her words bleeding together pathetically.

He grumbled audibly. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, we just talked—” 

“And I love you.” 

The confession dangled in the air like a noose. Her breathing was suspended entirely. 

“ _ Valerie _ .” 

She leaned her head against the armrest of the couch, tears falling anew. “What?” 

“You’re drunk.” Axl responded, a bitter edge to his voice.

“Yeah, and? What’s that got to do with anything?” 

This was backfiring spectacularly. Valerie could see almost immediately that she had sped right past halfway. She had gone too far. But there was no valid way for her to rectify this—to repent her sins—she just had to power through it. 

Through the speaker, she could hear the flick of a lighter. “It means you’re not thinking straight. You don’t know what the fuck you’re saying.”

“We’re not actually gonna fight over this again, are we?” She asked incredulously. At this moment in time, she didn’t care if her love went unrequited. She just needed him to  _ know _ , to understand that she wasn’t going to let go either. 

Another extended silence fell into place between the two of them. This one rid the room of oxygen molecule by molecule, until she could no longer feel her limbs. 

And then, “You do?” 

Nodding to herself, her neck scraped against the rough fabric of the couch and she bit out, “I do.” 

Quiet, again. She could hear her pulse resounding in several non-centralized locations throughout her skull. 

“No.” said Axl.

“No?” Panic surged in her throat. She was going to be sick. 

“I can’t fucking do—.” He croaked. 

“ _ Us? _ ” She cut him off, feeling her core cramp. 

“This. I can’t fucking do  _ this _ right now, Val. I can’t.” 

He wasn’t angry, but something in that general realm. It was something of great passion and equal pain. 

_ Damn it _ . She was so full of regret. 

“What do you mean—” 

The line beeped and went dead. 

She was met with nothing but a soft, gentle fuzz. Silence. 

He was gone. 

And there she was again, alone. 

It took her a moment to digest what had just transpired. Valerie had actually confessed the fact that she was in love with him. Just like that. 

And he’d done...nothing. He’d said  _ nothing _ . 

Well, he’d labeled her drunk. Which, after extremely little consideration, she recognized to be entirely true, but not the response she’d been seeking. Axl had dismissed her claims entirely. 

Was it because he didn’t believe her? Or did he simply not love her back and hadn’t wanted to admit it? She didn’t know which path she preferred; that he was incapable of understanding her feelings for him (or, possibly, not wanting to), or that he just didn’t harbor something as strong for her. Both were equally humiliating. 

He’d been holding himself back the entire conversation, that much was obvious. Val never got the sense that he was fully  _ there  _ at any point. But she could tell by the tone of his voice that he was sober, enough to be repelled by the fact that she wasn’t. 

Suddenly, Valerie felt very childish; immature. There seemed to be a pattern forming in her behavior, and that was the notion that she couldn’t own up to anything unless she couldn’t take full responsibility for her actions. 

She couldn’t reach out to Axl for the first time until she was hyped up on an adrenaline rush so powerful it made her chest ache. She couldn’t press that first kiss to his lips until she was wired on coke and could barely feel the touch of his lips on her numb ones. She couldn’t scrape the undeniable truth of the fact that she  _ loved _ him from the cavities of her innermost hellscape of a mind until she’d downed enough alcohol to kill a small child. 

And she never timed those moments right, either. Valerie was the one with the idealizations of romance that were drenched in fantasy, not him. She should have been the one to make things perfect. Instead, she had continually wielded the sledgehammer that smashed their precious glass heart to pieces. 

No wonder he didn’t want her. She had never proved to him, fully and in her most organic self, that she wanted  _ him _ . 

A messy sob unleashed itself. It came out like a cough, her shoulders shaking and face scrunching. Her cheeks were itchy as new rounds of moisture rained down upon them. 

He’d made her cry and she’d made him hate. What a cruel, miserable story they were writing. She prepared herself for an unhappy ending. 

The creaking of a door behind her alerted Valerie that she was no longer alone. Lifting her head and angling it, she saw Jill’s head peak out from around the bathroom door frame. Her hair was wrapped in a green towel, her body in her favorite pink robe. 

She had a calm look of softness etched into her features. Her eyes were wide, the corners of her mouth turned downwards. 

“How much did you hear?” Valerie asked, sitting up and wiping her eyes. 

Jill shook her head quickly. “Nothing until just now.” 

Which meant that she’d only heard the tears and not what caused them. 

“Oh.” 

Jill stepped further into the room and sat down on the sofa next to her. “He called?” 

Jill had known purely because there was nobody else on Earth who had as much power over Valerie. 

“It's my fault. I was calling Izzy and he picked up. He’s crashing there.” Valerie explained in response. “I freaked out when I realized it was him and hung up. That’s why he called back.” 

“Babe, you didn’t have to pick back up.” Jill soothed, the tranquility was visible in her amber eyes. 

“No.” She acknowledged. “But I did.” 

“What’d he want?” 

Valerie released a shaky laugh. “To see what I wanted.” 

Jill chuckled. “What’d  _ you _ want?” 

“Well,” Valerie gestured vaguely. “Izzy, initially. But then I just wanted to know how he was doing.” 

“And?” She asked. Valerie knew that Jill was just asking to please her, she didn’t actually care. 

“He’s alright.” 

“And that’s what’s got you cryin’, love?” Jill asked. Her velvety voice was collected, but inquisitive. 

“No, it’s not—” Valerie broke off. “It’s not that.” 

She would never bring herself to regret telling him. When it came to Axl, there was so much fucking pain. Pain that she would never trade for anything. But still, for some reason, she was uncomfortable with the idea of it no longer being kept between just the two of them. 

If she didn’t tell Jill, though, she thought she might combust on the spot.

“I told him that I loved him.” 

She confessed the same thing for the third time that night, an event that didn’t decline in difficulty. A shredded blade lodged itself in her throat. 

“Oh,  _ Val _ .” 

Her spirits fell. Did nobody fucking  _ want _ her to love him? 

“I couldn’t help it,” She cried and inhaled, “I couldn’t let him leave again. I couldn’t fucking do it.” 

Her voice was raw and weak. She felt pathetic. 

“Hey, hey. It’s alright.” Jill comforted, moving herself closer to Val and winding her arm around her shoulder. “What’d he say?” 

“He didn’t. He told me I was drunk and that he couldn’t listen to me. He hung up the goddamn phone,” Her words broke off and she sobbed, tucking her head into the crevice of Jill’s shoulder. “He doesn’t fuckin’ love me.” 

She didn’t regret it, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

“That’s not true. You know that’s not true.” 

“Well, it fuckin’ sounds like it.” Valerie wept bitterly. “I fucked up and I think I finally pushed him away. For good.” 

Jill rubbed her hand down Valerie’s upper arm. “Val, babe, just give him time.” 

She shook her head vigorously, “I’m tired of space and time. I just want this shit to be over. I just want to go  _ back _ .” 

Jill clicked her tongue. 

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you give it a few days? Give him some time to take it in and process everything. It was a lot, what you said—especially because you two haven’t talked in a few weeks.” She reasoned. “And, you know,  _ I’m _ sure of the fact that you’re thinking the worst, but just let it go for a few days and see what happens. Maybe take a bit of break from it all, get some  _ sleep _ , too.” 

That last part was emphasized. 

Numbly, Val found herself nodding. She knew that Jill’s words rang with undeniable truth but she wasn’t in her right mind to muddle through it and take it to heart. She just wanted to lay and stare at the ceiling until the solutions to her problems emerged from the woodwork. 

“That sound good? Get some sleep and then before you’ve got work tomorrow, we can go out and do something. Maybe we can get you to Izzy directly.” She tacked on in a joking manner. 

Valerie smiled and raised her head. 

“Okay. Cool.” Jill solidified and pushed back the hair from Val’s face that was damp with tears. “How was seeing Duff today, by the way. All good?” 

She inhaled unsteadily. This time the grin on her face was genuine. “It was nice, yeah. Really good to see him.” 

“Yeah. Don’t tell them this, but I’ve missed seeing them ‘round here. We’ll have to figure something out soon.” 

Valerie knew that Jill had seen Steven a few times in the past weeks. Slash, too, probably. But it’d been too long since they’d all been together in a group. 

“Yeah. You going to sleep?” Valerie asked, standing to grab her pasta bowl from the coffee table and drifting over to the microwave to reheat it.

“I think so. You’ll be okay out here?” Jill verified, standing and unwinding her hair from the towel, her dark curls spilling down her back. 

Valerie nodded. She still couldn’t sleep for another few hours if she wanted to be stable on her feet for work, but perhaps just laying around until then wouldn’t hurt. A shower, perhaps, might make her feel better, too. 

“Don’t stay up too late, love. I’ll be up in a few hours and you better not be.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Valerie slurred mockingly as she filled a plastic child’s cup with water from the sink.

Jill then left to go to bed, her door shutting gently. Valerie took her twice-reheated pasta and lukewarm tap-water and sat at the kitchen table. 

There was nothing significant that crossed through her brain for the rest of her waking hours, but she supposed that was okay. 

It was all quiet upstairs. The noises of her brain quitting to accommodate the buzzing cicadas and honking car horns below. 

She didn’t know if that was because she had utterly drained herself dry or not, though she didn’t care. 

Valerie just sat and didn’t think. 

For once. 


	12. turning page.

_ Friday, September 12th, 1986. _

The days within the week following her confession to Axl had moved by at a tortuous pace. There seemed to be nothing on Earth that was capable of passing the time, that was able to scour the sheer mortification that stuck to the crevices of her brain like a rotten plaque. 

Because, unlike the morning after sleeping with him, Valerie remembered everything she had done. 

Or—more accurately—everything she had  _ said _ . 

The hangover that she’d awoken to had been particularly wicked, too. The ache in her head had been splitting, cracking her body down the middle. Every organ in her body felt tight and compressed, like she’d been hung out to dry. 

Waking upside down in her bed, her hair spilling over the side of the mattress, she’d been wearing the same clothes she met Duff in. One corner of the fitted sheet had been pulled up, leaving a set of reddened wrinkles on the skin of her cheek. Her limbs were tangled incomprehensibly in the comforter; the majority of which was off the bed and laying limp on the floor. 

Immediately the pounding in her head had begun. The heavy, steady beat that hammered internally made the accomplishment of a task as simple as moving her skull from side to side difficult. She could barely lift her head from her mattress, and, even when she did, it sent the room into a flurry of motion so complex that an overwhelming wave of nausea rode to the forefront of her senses. 

Val had never had too much difficulty keeping her liquor down. Not in recent years, at least. (High school had been a completely different story. In fact, she probably should have sent her ex a card for how many times she’d puked out the window of his car and down the side of it. Or maybe she shouldn’t. She’d hated that fucking car.)

But, by now, she had mastered the art of moving in small increments and fighting through the tsunami of sickness that arrived, threatening. 

It made the process time-consuming but rewarding. She hated throwing up and always had.

By the time she had finally pulled herself from bed on that rainy Monday afternoon, she found that Jill still hadn’t returned from work. Though, the wooden ticking clock situated in the corner of the kitchen told Valerie that her friend was bound to return home soon. 

Well, maybe not. On the table was a note written in Jill’s loopy hand, the ink bright blue and glittery. It read that she’d be home late and that she’d bought some fresh squeezed orange juice that morning that might help with the hangover. 

Val bypassed it in favor of coffee, reaching around the juice for the milk that’d go in her cereal. She supposed she’d have to drink it later to appease Jill. 

The rest of the morning had gone by smoothly. She’d never gone to meet Izzy like she and Jill had discussed the night before, but she instinctively knew that it was for the better. If Axl was crashing there last night, the odds were high that he was staying for a few days anyway. She couldn’t risk confronting the sight of him just yet. 

Or ever, preferably. 

It wasn’t like she took back what she had said, however. Because she didn’t. Not a sliver of the words she said did she wish she could unsay. 

But like so many other instances between the two of them, she wished she had timed it better. 

She yearned for the ability to echo the same sentiments when she had been sober and Axl had been in front of her. Valerie wished she had confessed it to him during any of the dozens of nights they sat at Shirley’s, noses nearly brushing as they both bent over the counter. 

Or perhaps she could have spit it out on the mornings that she lay across the armchair with him sprawled on the adjacent couch, lazy conversation being passed between the two of them like a half-smoked cigarette as they rebelled against sleep and fought the inevitable separation. 

Or maybe she could have whispered it into his ear over the pounding beat of the club, her cheek brushing against his jaw and one arm thrown over his shoulder, such as the night she had finally drudged up the courage to drag him out onto the dance-floor. 

Really, any other situation would have been better than allowing it to bleed from her lips over the phone like her heart had been cut from her chest; when her slurred words were so mixed with salty tears and half-repressed sobs that she came off deranged. 

She had detected the absence of Axl’s steady, soft breath through the speaker. It was a silence so deafening that Valerie was forced to confront the immediate consequences of what she had done and nothing else. 

Of course, she’d told Duff earlier that same night, but she’d thought nothing of it then. She’d barely contemplated it, assuming it was an intoxicated thought that bubbled from her throat and was composed of no more than a half-truth. 

But, in reality, there was no cognitive dissonance here. She loved him then and she loved him now. She would love him blind and she would love him dead. And she would keep loving him, even if he’d only continue to exist in her head. 

Even if the reception hadn’t been quite what she had wanted, Valerie would go through it all again just to verify that she had meant what she’d said. 

He didn’t believe that her words were genuine and she supposed that she would, really, go to any length to prove just that. She didn’t care if he stood there, still-bodied and tight-lipped, or if he flat out turned her down. 

If he didn’t reciprocate her feelings, that was okay. She just had to ensure that he knew she loved  _ him _ . 

She didn’t think the opportunity to affirm such would ever arise, however. Axl had pushed her away, sealing her off. 

What he didn’t realize, however, was that she’d walk through miles and miles of the cold to reach him. She wouldn’t stop until he told her to. 

Valerie fucked up, she knew that. But she didn’t want to believe that she’d lost him, even if all signs pointed to that. 

But it was because the rest of the week went by with no interruption that she ran into trouble. When she didn’t have the company of the boys, nor any distraction besides the menial work waitressing produced, she was left with nothing but her thoughts. 

There was nothing for her to look forward to, nothing to provide her with a sense of  _ doing something  _ with her life. 

It was Friday now and she didn’t work tonight. Neither did Jill, though she was busy with a family dinner, which left Valerie bored. 

Thus, to curb her loneliness, she took a trip to the corner liquor store.

Scott was on again. The college kid was sitting on a stool, head in his hand and floppy dark curls plastered to his forehead with grease. Val threw up a halfhearted wave, which he returned with equal disinterest. They both weren’t satisfied with where they were in life. Within that realization, there was a curious sense of solidarity. 

Dragging her feet through the aisles, she hooked her hand around the handle of a vodka bottle and pulled it to her chest.  _ Sure _ , the alcohol fucked up the way she acted, and  _ yeah _ , she probably should have begun on finding a way to lessen her intake, but she didn’t care either. There was nobody for her to limit her behavior around as it was. 

It was early evening, the sun only beginning to set. The bright orange rays peaked through the poster-plastered front windows, covering her in sporadic bursts of warmth. It was mid-September and it had not yet begun to feel like fall. The seasons barely changed here, though. That was a fact that Valerie acknowledged with a bitter reluctance. There were no crunchy leaves to be trampled under foot, no sepia-toned aura that clung to air. And that brisk, biting chill that coated so many of her childhood memories wouldn’t blow in until much, much later. 

Back in Missouri, early autumn would have brought jeans and thick sweaters and perhaps an extra layer of socks for when she walked herself to the bus stop, teeth chattering. Here in Los Angeles, she was clad in a grey tank-top and a pair of black denim shorts that barely covered the curve of her ass, her body still having the audacity to sweat. Her hair stuck to the back of her neck uncomfortably, frizzy fly-aways framing her face. It didn’t matter that the store was overly air-conditioned, nothing could stop the oppressive heat that came with the closing of the summer months. 

The thought reminded her of something. In the corner of the store was a humming slushie machine, the variety of flavors twirling behind their little glass windows. She didn’t think there was any better way to cure the effects of the blistering temperature—and, besides, it might have been a little too early to crack open the liquor. 

Making her way over to the machine, Valerie pushed the vodka onto the counter. She grabbed a cup and filled it to the top with the frothy substance, the cherry ice leaking over the bubble lid to stain her fingers in its vibrant sweetness. 

Licking around the edges did little to clear the overflow. Carefully, she peeled the bottle from the sticky counter and headed for the register. 

“Hey, Scott.” she greeted, placing the two drinks in front of him.

“‘Sup, Val. This all?” He asked, surveying the items. 

Steven and Duff had been right. In the few weeks since they’d first been here, Scott had learned her name. 

An odd accomplishment. 

“Uh, yeah. For now, I guess.” 

He nodded and rang up her purchases, the money being exchanged without hassle. Brown paper bag and sweating slushie in hand, she turned away after bidding her goodbyes. 

“Hey, wait.” Scott called suddenly.

Valerie hummed, halfway through a brain-freeze inducing sip. 

“Just a quick question, but hey—” Scott started. His voice was colored in a shy sort of timidness, the former apathy all but completely erased. 

_ Oh God _ , she lamented. She really hoped he wasn’t going to hit on her. 

Not only was he barely an adult, but Val also absolutely loathed turning people down. It was awkward. She never knew what to say. 

What he said next was worse, however. So much worse.

“Well, you’re Axl’s girl, aren’t you?” 

Valerie’s eyes widened. The hand that held the slushie went numb. 

“I—uh...not really? No.” 

His brows furrowed in a thick haze of confusion. “I— _ no _ ?”

Not only was Val completely gobsmacked, but she was also partially embarrassed that her ego had been inflated enough to believe that Scott was going to pull something on her. She needed a powerful reality check. Quickly. 

Physically, she could feel her neck reddening. 

“No.” She ground out eventually. “...Why?”

Scott rushed to clarify. “Oh, no reason. It’s just that, well, I’ve been seeing him in here a few times sorta recently and he’s been talking about you with his guys so...” Trailing off, he dropped her eye contact, swiveling on his squeaky stool. 

Now it was  _ her _ turn to be confused. “Nothing good, I’m guessing.” 

He shrugged noncommittally. 

Valerie nodded her head and rolled her eyes. She shouldn’t have expected anything fucking better. 

“Yeah, well.” She sniffed, shrugging. “Do me a favor and drop that idea that I’m his girl, won’t you?” 

The thought sent physical waves of pain throughout her body. 

(It was only just past dinnertime, but she could mix the vodka and the cherry ice, couldn’t she?)

She turned toward the door, her arm pressed against the push handle. 

“No, yeah, of course. But Val?” He spoke. 

She groaned, regretting that she’d decided to leave her house. “Yeah?” 

“If it makes you feel any better, he’s been lookin’ a little rough these past few days.” 

The corner of her mouth quirked down sadly. “I don’t think it does.” 

“Thought not.” Scott responded. “His loss, though, right?” 

Her bristles didn’t unfold. Intuitively, she could sense that he’d only said as much to alleviate the tension that had fallen between them. “Yeah. Have a good one, Scott.” 

He smiled. “You too.” 

And then she exited, propelling herself onto the street corner. Cars whisked by. Strands of her hair stuck to the sugary residue on her lips. Her heart was splattered on the sidewalk below, crushed and bloody. 

She left it there and walked home.

* * *

No sort of epiphanies struck her on the return home. 

In fact, the only significant occurrence was that she had managed to give herself two brain-freezes in the span of a few minutes. 

And then another as she’d begun the elevator ascension. 

In retrospect, perhaps the treat hadn’t been such a good idea. Valerie’s sense of self-control was shot, it seemed. 

She was excited to go home now. At least she had that to look forward to. A night to herself wasn’t something that came by often. 

In less than an hour she had all but rescinded the complaints that had plagued her for the past week. 

The fact that she’d just had her worst fears confirmed by Scott had already been pushed to the back of her brain. She was trying her hardest to kick the thoughts of him from her mind. She couldn’t contemplate them. She  _ wouldn’t _ .

Valerie began to construct elaborate plans for the evening. She thought that she might just shelve the vodka for the evening and draw a bath instead. She couldn’t cook and Jill’s half-fucked stove didn’t help her in the pursuit, so she pieced together a list of take-away restaurants she could order in from. She had several episodes of  _ The Facts of Life _ to catch up on, too. 

Plenty of things that didn’t require liquor and absolutely did  _ not _ pertain to Axl. 

But then she stepped from the elevator and each of her plans was stabbed individually in the chest.

Of  _ fucking  _ course.

Because there he was, sitting in the space in the hallway before her front door. 

Axl.

This had to be a fucking joke. Or a damned, twisted hallucination. Or a sick, hellish mix of both. 

Scott had lied too, because Axl was looking better than he had on most days he spent with her. His hair was clean and brushed, for once lacking any form of headwear. His clothing, the same leather jacket and pants, were paired with an unwrinkled t-shirt. He looked well put together. 

He looked good. 

He was sat with his knees brought up and spread, his arms thrown over the top of them and his ringed-hands clasped together. By the way that his head jerked and banged against the wall, it was clear that he hadn’t expected her appearance either. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. 

“What the fuck are  _ you _ doing here?” He countered.

“I fucking live here.” Valerie returned, staring blankly down at him. 

Axl frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” 

“Since when do I work on Fridays? Has it been that long?” 

“It's—” His brow furrowed. “ _ Oh _ .” 

He stood up unsteadily, bracing one leather-clad arm on the wall. Valerie felt concern seep into her veins. “You on something?” 

He looked around, confused. “What? Oh.  _ No _ . Fuck no. Just tired, I guess.” 

“Yeah, well. Aren’t we all.” She shrugged. While he reconnected with reality, she dug through her pocket for her keys and unlocked the door. 

Val sighed, then. “Really, what are you doing here?” 

It wasn’t fair of her, but she couldn’t keep the annoyance from lacing her tone. How fucking  _ dare _ he hang up on her last week, leave her swaddled in radio silence, and then appear at her doorstep like  _ he’d _ been the one shut out in the rain.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that they could no longer keep up with one another. The moment she’d catch up to him, he would push her four steps back. And when he’d lap her, she’d run seven steps ahead. Nowadays, they were always disjointed. 

It unnerved Valerie thoroughly. She could still recall the moments she’d been able to match her pulse to his, without fail, beat for beat. 

“I came to pick up my things.” 

Her knees wobbled. Her tight grip on the doorknob was the only pillar that kept her upright. She was suddenly desperately grateful that she was turned away from him, entirely certain that she wouldn’t have been able to disguise the expression of sheer and utter pain that contorted her features like lightning striking the ground. It was a set of seven words that she’d been expecting, yet one that she could never bring herself to prepare for. 

It’d been a month since Axl had stepped foot into the apartment. Whatever they had was done, no matter what she tried to tell herself. He had no reason to stick around. 

“Oh.” She exhaled. Controlling her tone of voice was crucial, a painful flaming ball forming in her throat immediately as she faced him. “You didn’t leave anything here, though.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, I did.” 

Did he really want the toothbrush back? It was still untouched beneath the bathroom counter—completely his for the taking—but she had hoped that he had bought a replacement one by now. 

“Why now?” She challenged next.

Axl lifted a shoulder. “Why not.” 

“You have a key, don’t you?” Valerie pointed out. “You could’ve come anytime.” 

“We both know that’s not true.” Axl mused offhandedly. “Plus, I lost it.” 

The response surprised a chuckle from Val. “Of course you did.” 

They stood in the doorway for a few seconds, unmoving. She didn’t want to let him in, utterly unable to cope with the realization that the end of this impromptu encounter would mean letting him go. This was, as Valerie instantly understood, the point of no return. 

But she couldn’t keep him out any longer, either. Not without it growing awkward.   
“Right, anyways.” Valerie spoke and inched into the apartment. “Yeah, come on in. Do you need me to get anything or do you know where—” 

Axl breezed right past her and headed for the armchair closest to the balcony door. It was the one that she’d sit in when they got home from work, on the off-chance that they were both too wired for immediate sleep. 

He crouched to his knees and lifted the cushion. 

Turning to brandish his find, a staunch feeling of comprehension fell over her. Oh. 

In his hand was a thick black book, dozens of smaller pages spilling out the sides. It was his lyric book. She’d seen it sat in front of him too many nights at Shirley’s to ever forget it. 

Axl had always kept it safeguarded from her, though. Not that he ever let it stray too far from his line of sight around anyone, really. On some level, it was an extension of him. 

Similar to her necklace, it seemed. 

Valerie reached up and grabbed onto the cross pendant. She wished she had even a fraction of her mother’s ability to emotionally distance herself from any given situation. 

It was one of his prized possessions, so she couldn’t fault him for wanting to come back for that. Really, she could hardly even begin to fathom how he’d lasted a month. 

“I didn’t know you kept that here.” Valerie said, placing both of her drinks onto the kitchen table and unwinding her sunglasses from her hair. If she wasn’t so thoroughly convinced the world was playing tricks on her, she could have sworn she saw him throw a critical look at the vodka.

“Usually, it travels with me,” Axl explained, the deepness of his voice sliding over her. “But I didn’t see the point in bringing it down to the Whisky that night, you know?” 

She cringed. “Yeah, alright.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did you always put it there, though?” 

Valerie was supremely distraught over the fact that she’d been unaware that the manifestation of his very soul had been living right under her nose this whole time. 

(That wasn’t to say she’d  _ ever _ look through it, but for so long she’d thought she’d seen the last of him.)

“Depended on the day. Had to hide it from Jill, not you.” Axl stated. 

“She’d never snoop.” Valerie declared. It was the most confident she had been all night. 

His features became indifferent. He rolled his eyes. “One can never be too sure.”

Val shrugged, unsure of what to say. If this was all he needed, then there was no reason for him to linger any longer. By the way he lowered his arm and started pedaling towards the front door, he knew it too. 

He probably didn’t even  _ want _ to stay. 

Desperation crawled at the edges of her skull. She couldn’t let him go. She had to  _ try _ . 

“Wait,” She called. Axl’s frame paused in the entryway, his shoulders tense. He threw his chin over his shoulder, the line of his cheekbone sharp. 

“Did you really forget I don’t work on Fridays?” Valerie asked softly.

He shook his head. “I thought it was Thursday.” 

There was a pained expression coloring his face, embroiling him in discomfort. He sighed. “It’s been a long few weeks, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

Valerie frowned, a sadness encroaching upon her at the realization of what he meant by that.

“You didn’t mean to see me today, did you?” She asked, balling her hands into fists. Her long red nails bit into the skin of her palms. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“You thought it was Thursday.” She clarified. “Meaning that’d Jill be here to let you in, not me. You hadn’t wanted to see me.”

“That’s not—” Axl dropped his shoulders and sighed again, surrendering. “I mean, can you blame me? I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to say to you after— _ after _ .” 

Val worked her jaw, shaking her head. “After I told you that I loved you.” 

“Yeah.” He turned to face her, throwing his arms outwards. “Val, what the hell?”

He didn’t sound angry, just exasperated. Disbelieving. Her vision fogged and she turned her head away from his sharp gaze. “What?” 

“Why?” He questioned. “Just— _ why _ ?” 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘ _ why’ _ ? Because I fucking love you, that’s why.” 

Axl crossed his arms. The buttons on his jacket jangled at the motion, the silver embossments glinting in the sectors of exposed sunlight. 

“Why now? Why  _ then _ ?” 

Valerie collapsed onto the couch. “I hadn’t meant to tell you then.” 

He stepped further inward, but was still mindful of the fine line that separated the entryway and the gathering room. He was always ready to run, to escape at a moment’s notice. 

“I know that.” Axl stated. “That’s why I hung up.” 

Valerie’s head snapped up, a swell of resistance bursting internally. “I didn’t say I hadn’t  _ meant _ it then, just that I should have waited. I did mean it. I  _ do _ .” 

A handful of emotions flickered on his face. She couldn’t pin down a single one. 

Curiously, she didn’t have any anxiety pending in her chest at the moment. It was as if, more than anything, her body just wanted to push out the truth, regardless of the fact that she was prematurely baring her soul for him once more. 

He decided on a look of apprehension. “You were wasted, you didn’t know what you were saying.” 

“Maybe not,” Valerie conceded. “But I do now, and it’s all there. Every word I said was true.” 

Axl shook his head. She didn’t know if he simply couldn’t believe it or if he just didn’t want to. There was a definite difference between the two realities. There was only so much she could do in the case of the latter. 

“Listen,” She pressed, looking up at him. “I know you’re still mad at me for what happened that night. And, shit, I’m sorry that I fucked everything up between us—” 

“You didn’t—”

“We both fucked up that morning, I know that. But I made a mistake with the blow and I shouldn’t have done it.” She explained, then added: “Or, at least, I should have been more responsible with it.”

“That’s—” 

“And while I regret nearly everything I said that morning,” She continued, ignoring his attempts to speak, “I wouldn’t take back anything that happened. Because it was with you.”

His gaze was skeptical. “‘Nearly everything’ you said?” 

“You said some pretty fucked up things, too. I wasn’t the only one at fault.” She didn’t make room for an explanation. There was absolutely no space for an argument. It was defensiveness, plain and simple. 

“That’s true.” Axl acknowledged. Then, he sighed. “I— _ I _ should have been more careful at the Whisky, too. I shouldn’t have said you couldn’t handle it. I was an ass for that.” 

“I wasn’t your responsibility, that’s what you don’t seem to understand. I can own up to the fact that I messed up.”

“It could kill you.” His eyes, a sparkling pale green, saddened rapidly. “And it’s hard enough as it is, with the guys.” 

She smiled, her lips twitching in a bittersweet astonishment. “But I’m still here, aren’t I?” 

Despite being decked out completely in leather, he looked indescribably small and vulnerable in that moment. Valerie knew that, in his own reluctant way, he was exposing himself to her, piece by piece. She couldn’t let the moment end. 

He stepped fully into the room, placing his book onto the coffee table and falling down onto the couch beside her. There was still a healthy space between the two of them, but she could feel his body heat radiating off of him. 

It’d been a month since she touched him. 

Abruptly, all she wanted was to rest her head against his chest. Nothing more, nothing less. She craved the casual intimacy they had almost gotten around to establishing. 

“God, it’s my fault. Everything is.” The words slipped from his lips like a secret he was meant to take to the grave. “You weren’t supposed to fall into this.” 

“Don’t fucking say that, Axl.” Valerie warned, eyes narrowing. “There isn’t a single thing I would change if it meant I wouldn’t have what we had.” 

_ Had _ . 

Axl frowned. “I was the one who pulled you into this. It was my fucking bandmate that gave you the coke, my bandmate that got you drunk last week. Anything that’s gone wrong can somehow be tied back to me. We were supposed to have fun, I wasn’t supposed to fuck up your life.” 

“My life was fucked way before I met you.” Valerie insisted. “You know that it was.” 

She’d never even had the chance to articulate her past to him, but she hadn’t needed to. Intuitively, she’d known that he had always understood that and, somehow, connected to it. 

“And it’s okay for me to make it worse? Val, you have no clue of the goddamn pain I’ve caused people—that I caused  _ you _ when I said what I did. I’m only going to get you hurt.” 

“Well, did you mean what you’d said?” She inquired, turning to face him. 

As the last bits of the sun snuck below the horizon, the shadows of the night crossed over his face. 

“You know I didn’t.” 

She actually hadn’t. In the series of confessions that had bounced between them in the past two conversations, he had never once expressed remorse over his words from that Saturday morning.

She just assumed that, on some level, he must have meant them. And that she, on some level, just didn’t care. 

“So we both said things we didn’t mean.” Valerie concluded. “We dropped the ball. It happens.” 

“How are you just able to let it go like that? After  _ everything _ I said to you?” 

She shrugged. “You know why.” 

Pulling back, he shook his head once more. “Stop saying that. You don’t mean it.” 

“You know, there are a lot of things that I’m sorry for.” She confessed. “I’m sorry that I had to be high out of my mind to kiss you for the first time. I’m sorry that I told you that sleeping with you was a mistake.”

Axl looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“I don’t know how else to prove it to you, though. How else do you want me to express the fact that I’m in love with you?” Valerie asked, leaning forward. 

Words were the only way she could embody the thoughts she had. And it was so rare that she got them to work in her favor.

When he didn’t respond, she pressed forward. 

“And, most of all, I’m so goddamn sorry that I hadn’t told you how I felt earlier.” 

Valerie pulled up one leg and angled her body to face him. His position was defensive; he was afraid to sink too far into her space. 

“I should have told you earlier and I’m sorry it came out the way it did. But I’m  _ not _ sorry that I told you.” 

Each word that left her lips lifted a miniscule weight off her chest. 

“And I don’t need you to say anything back, and if I’ve fucked up and made things awkward beyond repair then it’ll be my burden to bear. All I really need is for you to understand that I love you and I have loved you. There’s nothing you could do—nothing you could ever say, either—that would change that. Okay?” 

Axl turned his head downwards and away. “When?” 

Valerie tilted her chin in confusion. “When what?”

“When did you know?”

Valerie blinked. She had never truly contemplated the moment that she had fallen in love with him. 

She supposed that, in some ways, there had never been a final, decisive moment that cemented the reality of it. It’d been building within her slowly since she’d first met him on that sweltering day in June; back when his dark tattoos and torn clothing had taken her world by storm.

She didn’t think there was ever going to be a specific moment, either. The short answer was that she loved him and, for as far back as she could think, always had. For as long as he had occupied a space in her life, he had held a place in her heart. 

Her brain hadn’t thought to let him in, but he was here nonetheless. And it had taken him forcing himself out for her to realize that she wanted nothing but for him to stay.

There was no other person who had made her feel so special—so _ seen _ . For Valerie, who had spent most of her life unprioritized, that meant everything.

But she couldn’t explain all of that to him, not now, so she rapidly wrestled with her brain for a more appropriate answer. 

“Remember when I lost my necklace that one day and we spent forever tearing up the place looking for it?”

He nodded and flicked his eyes to the cross sitting beneath the hollow of her throat. She could still feel the sweeping sensation of his fingers on the back of her neck. Val could still see his face inches from hers, his eyes tracing the outline of her lips. They had been so close to kissing that day.

_ If they had, would things have turned out differently? _

“So then you remember when Slash walked into my room for the first time?” 

Axl chuckled slightly, the sound sending shockwaves of bliss through her. “And he called it depressing as shit? Oh, hell yeah. I remember wanting to bash his face into the pavement.” 

Valerie giggled. “It was then.” 

His face contorted in confusion. “Why?” 

She shrugged. “It stupid.”

“No, c’mon, you’ve gotta tell me now.” He insisted, his tone pleading. 

“I don’t know,” Valerie started. “I guess I’ve just never had anybody go up to bat for me like that.”

There was a small choking noise that came from his throat. 

Realizing that her words sounded even dumber aloud, she rushed to clarify. “And I’m not sayin’ you should have followed through with the curb-stomping, of course, but I didn’t even have to tell you how important everything was to me at that moment. You just knew.” 

His eyes locked with hers. They were utterly indecipherable.

“These past few weeks have been so fucked up because I’ve so thrown off by the fact that we’d fallen out of sync. You’ve always just gotten me, Ax. I’ve never once had to explain myself.”

He untensed, his edges visibly softening. “Oh.” 

“You haven’t asked for a goddamn thing from me, and yet, you’ve given me everything.” She explained honestly. 

Axl sighed. “Val—”

“So for that, I love you. And I won’t apologize for it.” 

A brief moment of silence fell between them, her words sinking into the crevices of the floorboards. Darkness was almost a complete reality. She turned and flicked the tableside lamp on, casting him in the marigold light. There were striking shadows planted beneath his eyes, ones she hadn’t seen earlier.

Perhaps Scott  _ hadn’t _ misjudged.

“God damn it.” He murmured. “God damn you, Valerie.” 

“I’m not sorry.” 

“I am.” The lightness of his tone clashed with the stoniness of his face. He was visibly torn over something she couldn’t grasp. The constant itch over wanting to be able to crack him open returned in full force. There was something lethal stirring in that brain of his; the deciding vote to the cataclysmic sealing of her fate. 

“How do people make this look so fucking easy?” She asked, throwing her head back against the couch. “Why is this so hard?” 

“Because you’re you,” He responded, mirroring her actions and sounding dazed. “And I’m me. We were probably fucking doomed from the start.” 

Again, her heart clenched. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the goddamn truth. Maybe we were both too screwed up for this.” 

She couldn’t challenge him on that, not by a longshot. But her brain couldn’t help but snag on a small detail. 

“Why do you talk about us like it’s over?” Valerie questioned, looking over at him. His chin was pointed upwards, she could see the sharp outline of his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I don’t know,” He returned. Axl dragged his eyes to hers, his line of vision skating over her. There was nothing she wanted more in that moment than to hold his jaw in her hands, to feel the smooth skin of his face beneath her thumbs. 

“But I’m a mess, Val.  _ We’re _ a mess. I don’t see how we’ll get anywhere without fucking each other up beyond repair.”

This time a few weeks ago, his words would have created painful craters in her chest. Now, she felt less than nothing. There was a complete absence of  _ anything _ in the abyss of her soul. The words were unregistered, miniscule drops in a much bigger, much crazier ocean. 

“You just said that we were both already irreversibly fucked.” She shot back. 

He shrugged. “I can’t be the one responsible for completely ruining your life, then. You’ve still got so much time, so much promise. I can’t be the one to wreck that.” 

He kept coming back to the idea that she would be the one with the heart broken and that he would be the sole culprit. It angered her. 

Somehow, in the midst of all this chaos, she had never fully articulated everything Axl had done for her. He’d given her an escape and the will to take it. 

“So then don’t.” Valerie challenged. “For the love of God, I just want you to stop thinking, even for a minute, that you’re gonna ruin me. That you’re gonna fuckin’—shit, I don’t know—steal my innocence or something. I’m over it. If I knew you weren’t gonna be good for me or that you weren’t gonna be what I wanted, then I wouldn’t be here.”

His upper lip twitched. 

She sat up, pushing her hair behind her ear and readjusting. “But you are. You’re always gonna be.”

“You can’t fucking  _ mean _ that.” Axl mumbled. 

“See,” Valerie pressed. “That’s you always thinking you know what’s going on up here.” 

She tapped her skull for emphasis, raising her eyebrows. 

“I’m stone cold sober right now, I’m telling you the truth. We both lied to each other, and I get that it screwed things up for awhile, but you know it won’t happen again.” 

“I don’t.” He maintained. “How do I know that we won’t get drunk and fuck again and restart this goddamn cycle, going through all the motions until, one day, I say whatever fucking thing it is that breaks your heart and pushes you away for good?” 

Valerie shook her head. “You don’t. And that’s the whole fucking point. That’s how relationships work, Axl. People mess up all the damn time—they fight, they scream, they get drunk—and they’re still able to carry on. Because, at the end of the fucking day, they’re still in love with the other person. And the good days always outweigh the bad ones.”

Her relationship history was, overall, unsuccessful and short. But she still knew this to be true. Before things had gone too far south with her parents, they had once been like that too—so immeasurably in love with each other that they managed to conquer whatever battle life hurdled their way. Every time. 

“Think about it,” She continued, exhaling heavily. “Before everything happened, we never had a single bad day. There was never a moment where I was even just  _ irritated _ with you. That’s how it should be. That’s how it  _ would _ be. The bad days fucking suck but you can’t avoid them, we can’t run from them.” 

“You don’t understand how bad I’d be for you.” Axl repeated. 

While he spoke, he readjusted and faced her. His movements sent a pack of butterflies fluttering through her stomach. All of a sudden, she felt incredibly weightless. He ran his hands through his hair, his jewelry catching on the smooth strands. 

The lamplight revealed dozens of varying shades of warmth in the locks, a mandala of brilliant tangerines, muted ambers, and dark rusts forming a crimson halo that rested upon his head like a crown. 

He sat sprawled on the sofa like it was a broken throne.

Valerie extended her hand upwards, pausing before she touched his face. She was giving him time to pull away, to brush her off. He didn’t move. Cupping her hand beneath the curve of his jaw, she ran her thumb down the bridge of his cheekbone, scoping the valley of it.

Everything about this moment was uncharted territory. 

Since the moment she’d met him, it’d been a strenuous pursuit in attempt to feel him out mentally. It had been an effort that she had never minded jeopardizing herself over, but one that had been risky business. The tip of his knife had always been placed at the base of her spine, awaiting the plunge. One wrong move and her lights were out. Game over. 

Valerie had felt as though she had made progress despite that. When done with grace, there were days that she could feel Axl falling apart in her hands; willing. She knew, distantly, that she had managed to peel away at least a few of the layers he surrounded himself with. 

Each step further brought her a new set of obstacles and a new set of rewards. Both of which did nothing but drag her in deeper. He was gridlocked in puzzles, but Valerie understood without a speck of reluctance, that she would eagerly spend the rest of her hours solving each individual one. She would if it meant that, one day, she would be able to touch down into the depths of his soul and climb his bare bones. 

Never had there been a person that she so desperately wanted to slice open and pull apart. 

Valerie had only recently come to realize that there were a lot of  _ nevers _ when it came to her life prior to Axl. So many things she’d never done, places she’d never been, emotions she’d never felt. He completely shattered her understanding of what it had meant to live, and, for that reason, he was revolutionary. He was so fucking magnetic. 

He was what it felt like to bite the bullet. To close one’s teeth around solid, frigid metal and clamp down  _ hard _ . 

Yet, even so, it was hard to crack down into the core of him. Borderline impossible, really. And Valerie assumed that, were she not so hellbent on doing so, that she would never truly come close to doing so. It was becoming an increasingly clear reality that most people in his life would never truly know him, purely because he just didn’t allow it.

Valerie had liked to believe that she’d been let in. Sometime, amidst the endless conversations over lukewarm coffee and smoking ashtrays, Axl had handed over the key and revealed the lock. It was never something she had taken lightly. If nothing else, she had always understood the magnitude of that implication. 

Because while Axl was incurably hard to know, he was, inevitably, so damn easy to love. 

To be loved by him was potentially the biggest privilege of all. 

Or so she considered it to be. 

But she hadn’t had the opportunity to flesh him out physically either. It was true that Valerie had, technically, had her hands on him before—through incidental brushings over clinked drinks or purposeful high-fives after the dumb games they’d play to pass the time at Shirley’s—but she’d never really felt him out. 

There were brief splices of time where they’d dipped their toes into the beginning stages of mapping one another out, too, though those were much harder to come by. 

It had been moments like these that sustained her existence. Such as the time Val had snaked her hand up his forearm and pulled him towards her in an effort to brush the tousled hair from his face post-gig. Or the one time she’d forced herself to remain imperceptibly still as he held her hand in his and finished painting the nails she couldn’t complete (she was left-handed and, no matter how hard she tried, that hand never turned out as good as the right one. Jill hadn’t been around, either, so Axl had— _ boldly _ —claimed that he could do it and she, unsurprisingly, found herself unable to say no). 

And then, of course, there was the night she’d fucked him.

They were all moments that had been fleeting. Gone before Valerie had even been given the chance to digest them; to absorb him. They were periods in time in which she’d been able to register the sensation of his skin sliding against hers, but unable to revel in sheer excitement that simmered in every single one of her nerve endings. 

While she had him here, she took advantage of it. His skin was warm when her fingers touched down upon its surface, delicately soft beneath the pressure of her thumb. For a man with such a violent exterior—the personal embodiment of smoking, blazing guns—he was fatally tender. It wept from him like a slowly wilting rose, thorns and all. 

For as long as he’d let her, she just wanted to  _ have _ him. 

It didn’t matter what he thought. He was perfect for her. 

“I don’t care.” Valerie remarked finally. 

Immediately, she watched him engage in an internal power struggle. Discontent fluttered throughout his face, prompting his eyebrows to knit together and his lip to curl upwards. It was clear that her words hadn’t appeased him. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her grasp. He jawline skipped with indecision momentarily against her palm before it resettled.

She questioned if Axl even believed the words he was saying. Valerie certainly didn’t. 

“It’s shit like that that’s gonna get you fucked over in life.” He responded after a moment’s reflection. 

“I don’t care.” Valerie repeated. “I don’t.” 

“Valerie,” He leaned slightly into her touch. Most of her fingers were wrapped around the back of his neck, her thumb skimming his harsh edges of his face. 

“I just wish you’d let me decide what’s good for me.” She responded truthfully.

“And I’m not good.” Axl frowned. The depth of his voice was scratching at her insides, drawing blood. If she weren’t so afraid of the consequences, she would lean forward and kiss him right now. She didn’t know how else to soothe his worries and ease the never ending cycle of pain he placed on himself. 

“Well then I’d wish you’d let me decide what’s bad for me, too.” replied Valerie with a sad smile. 

He shook his head but didn’t say anything else. 

Valerie couldn’t help but think this could be the last time she’d have him like this. One poor judgement call and this could all end in Axl throwing himself out the door and never turning back.

There was simply too much she wanted to say to him and most of it was far more than just words could ever convey. 

But, still, if she didn’t seize the moment right now, it would pass her by entirely. And then what would she have? Nothing. Not even the ability to say she had tried her damndest to keep him. 

“We could just  _ try _ this,” She began, “Couldn’t we?” 

The bone of his jaw shifted against the side of her palm, the gears turning audibly in his head. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?” Val asked. She attempted with all of her might to keep the desperation from leaking into her tone, but she knew that soon enough she’d be powerless to stop it. There was only so much willpower one could possess in the face of constant dejection. She didn’t know where else they could go from here.

Axl raised his hand and wrapped it around her wrist. He still didn’t pull away from her, not fully, but she could sense that whatever ounce of vulnerability he had let her see was preparing to fold in on itself. It was like catching smoke with bare hands. 

And then it was just gone altogether. 

“Because I’ll only end up breaking your fucking heart.” Axl croaked. “And you know I don’t give a shit about mine, but I’m not gonna risk hurting you just because you wanna roll the dice like that.” 

Valerie dropped away from his face at his words, unsurprised when he didn’t fight back. As quickly as his hand had planted roots around her arm, it unwound. 

Venom crept up her throat like bile. 

“I don’t know who put the idea into your head that you’re unlovable or just— _ I don’t know _ —meant to spend the rest of your life alone, but it’s not fucking true.” Valerie huffed. “You have people that care about you and who  _ want _ to be a part of your life.” 

“Well, that’s their fucking problem, then.” Axl retorted coldly. 

“That’s  _ my  _ fucking problem.” She overrode, spitting his words back at him. 

His top lip twitched and his resolve flickered slightly. “It doesn’t have to be.” 

Valerie shrugged, long past reaching acceptance. “But it is.” 

Axl exhaled dramatically and rolled his eyes. Even disjointed, she was struck by the sheer greatness of his beauty. It wasn’t an obvious kind, (though she couldn’t deny that she had always found him undeniably attractive), but it  _ was _ a disarmingly charming sort. 

There was so much danger packed into features that were typically so soft and inviting. The brilliant copper hue of his hair, the sloped tip of his nose, the dazzling peak of his smile—they were all traits that pointed to innocence. 

Like always, he grabbed her expectations by the neck and inverted them; ruined them. 

“You’re wrong about this.” asserted Axl. 

This time  _ he _ reached out for her. His hand skated up her collarbone and came to rest over the conjunction of her neck and shoulder. 

Valerie wondered distantly if he was able to feel the drumming of the pulse in her neck. Her heart was going absolutely haywire.

“Maybe,” she started, pursing her lips. 

Val didn’t actually think so, but she assumed he wouldn’t stand to hear her say it again. 

“Just don’t prove that right, then.” 

Axl’s eyes fluttered closed, his nostrils flaring as he released a pent-up breath. “I want you, Val, and I need you to know that I do. It’s just—I wanna do you right.” 

Valerie detected that they had reached the end of this line for the night. They’d come full circle. 

She wasn’t able to dig up any emotion other than a vague taste of satisfaction, though. She had said everything she had wanted to tonight. And she was more than certain that they had managed to clear the water of whatever had been poisoning them.

Waiting wasn’t an unfamiliar prospect for her. 

Valerie had been starved of the good in life for so long that she could handle a few more weeks tacked on. Especially if the outcome led to Axl being hers, with him standing by her side. 

“Alright.” answered Valerie. Her voice was positively dripping with ripe affection. 

Relief poured from him. “Okay?” 

“It’ll happen.” She nodded. “Just not tonight.”

His smile was timid, creeping across his cheeks. “Not tonight.” 

She turned her head, glancing at the clock in the kitchen. It was 9:47 pm. She didn’t know how long Jill’s dinner would last, but it was bound to wrap up soon. 

Unlocking herself from Axl’s grip, Valerie rose to her feet. Looking down, she saw him glancing up at her. His body was open, his face clear. So often he sat wrapped around himself, an ever present need to guard himself taking precedence over agreeableness. It seemed as though she had unearthed another layer tonight. 

“You can stay here tonight, you know. You don’t have to go back to Jessica’s.” 

“I’m bunking with Slash now.” He replied, brushing her off. “And, besides, I probably shouldn’t.” 

“Don’t worry about Jill.” Valerie assured him. “I’ll explain everything and she’ll understand.”

Laughing weakly, Axl shook his head and stood up. “No. That’s not what I’m worried about.” 

In explanation, he let his gaze glide over her. 

Goosebumps erupted over her skin. She had temporarily forgotten how much skin she had left exposed. 

“Ugh, get out.” Valerie complained weakly before a giggle soon swallowed her words. “Leave before I—” 

“Yeah, yeah. I hate me too.” He drawled as he bent and picked up his book from the table. 

She followed Axl as he highlighted a path for the door. There was no longer any weight that held her down as she walked, no identifiable pressure that constricted her airways. Because, even if it wasn’t quite to the degree that she had hoped for, Valerie had gotten him back. 

That had been all she needed. 

When he wrenched it open and inched past the doorway, Axl turned and faced her. That same damn smirk that had murdered her the first day was back in full force. It cut deep. 

“So we’re okay?” Valerie asked, shoving down the unruly beast that wanted to lunge forward and pull him into her. 

Axl nodded. His face was devoid of all resentment, his earlier hesitation completely wiped away. The tension had leaked from his spine, the ice broken. He was back to that solid source of warmth that had held her so close these past few months. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She whispered, smiling. Placing her hand on the door, her body fought off her attempt to close it. 

And then he moved to turn away, the pins on his jacket reflecting off the orange lights of the hallway. 

“Fuck, wait!” He shouted suddenly. Spinning on the heel of his boot, he drove himself back towards her. “I forgot to tell you that we got approved for the EP.” 

“Oh—” The excitement caught her off guard. In the midst of the separation, Valerie had completely forgotten that the boys had been gearing towards recording their first studio work. 

“We start recording next month.” Axl explained further.

“Oh, that’s,” she broke off, smiling. “I’m  _ so _ happy for you guys.” 

The happiness that shone in her tone was genuine. 

It had only been three months that she’d known the boys and they had come so fucking far. 

“Yeah, we’re—I’m really fucking excited about it.”

“You deserve it, Axl. You do.” 

He smiled again, this time with teeth. “Think you might ever come on down to the studio? Jill, too. If she wants, I guess.”

“I’d love to.” 

“Also, we’ve got a gig next week and I’ve missed seeing my best girl up front, you down for that?” Axl professed. He was leaning up against the door frame, back to his effortless cool. 

_ Well, you’re Axl’s girl, aren’t you?  _

The echo of Scott’s words sent a shiver racing up her spine. Goddamn it. 

“Yeah,” Valerie responded with a burgeoning excitement. “I think so.” 

“Hell yeah!” He threw his arms up in victory, the pages of his lyric book flipping. The words sent a large laugh rippling through her body. 

There had never been anybody who had made her as angry as he had that Saturday morning. And, if someone were to ask her two weeks ago, she would have sworn that she would have never gotten over it. But now that she had, Valerie realized that there was nobody who made her as happy as he did, either. 

Nobody who made her felt so incredibly fucking  _ good _ . 

Axl leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

Then he left. But there was no sadness at his departure. Just contentment.

They were going to be okay. 


	13. collision.

_ Friday, September 19th, 1986. _

Valerie was sitting backstage with Izzy and Slash. 

They were pushed together on a sofa meant for two, the boys bookending her as she sat with her limbs bunched up tightly. Between them passed a half-finished bottle of Jack Daniels, though she was mostly just the liaison. Val was still trying her hardest to rein in the drinking. 

Izzy was perched almost spilled over one edge of the couch, his pale hand woven into the black strands of his hair, his forehead shoved up against the base of his palm. A cigarette was locked between his fingers, whittling down to the butt as he let it dwindle untouched. Slash reclined with his head thrown back and his legs spread, his eyelids fluttering shut. He was shirtless, his jeans were unbuttoned. 

Valerie wasn’t confident in the idea that they’d be ready to perform in under a half hour, but she was reluctant to speak on it. They had never run into trouble before. Even if it was by the skin of their teeth, they were always able to scrape something together. 

The band was booked to play at the Stardust Ballroom. It was a swanky place, with gleaming tabletops covered in oddly shaped glasses and an impressive tech system—a feature that she hadn’t been intrigued by but that Axl had been overly impressed with. 

How they had managed to book a slot in such a prime time, she wasn’t exactly certain. But she sure was proud as hell.

Jill was there too, bent out of frame as she repowdered her nose. Her earrings, golden outlines of abstract faces, twinkled in the minimal lighting of the space. The mirror she was standing before was cracked and covered in grime, swipes of red lipstick connecting the three punched out bulbs that surrounded the frame of the glass. 

Duff was across that same alleyway at a different bar, filling himself with whatever form of stamina he’d need to churn out tonight’s show. Regardless of the fact that they were already situated in a bar, he hadn’t seemed to care. He’d ducked out an hour ago with a willowy, tan girl attached to his hip and promised to be back twenty minutes before the set started.

Valerie glanced down at her watch. He had exactly nine minutes. 

However, it was entirely possible that it soon wouldn’t matter, because Axl was nowhere to be seen. She hadn’t seen him all night and hadn’t heard from him since early yesterday morning after he dropped her off from work. 

Tonight marked exactly a week since they had reconciled, but he still wasn’t ready to come back to the apartment. There was no obstacle standing in the way of it, either. Nothing but his own pure stubbornness. 

(Truly. Not even Jill, who Val had forced him to face a few mornings back. The whole situation, while brutally awkward, had gone smoother than anybody could have anticipated. The two of them had reached somewhat of a tentative impasse. For now.) 

Valerie wasn’t put off by his refusal to give in, though; not yet, at least. Because every other part of their routine pre-incident had fallen back into place without a single hitch. 

On her night off last Sunday, they’d spent the meandering hours holed up between the shelves of the local record shop, flipping through the endless stacks. Walking out with far too many purchases, it was a collective decision that had kept them busy and burnt vinyl-shaped holes in both of their pockets. 

She had struck gold when she had dug up  _ L.A. Woman  _ and  _ Fair Warning _ , though, and there was nothing that could erase the self-satisfied smile off Axl’s face when he tucked  _ In Through the Out Door _ beneath his arm. Nor the glimmery feeling in her chest at the sight of it. 

Plus, it was about time she had put her paycheck towards something she actually wanted, anyways. 

And whenever he could, he stopped by on the nights that she worked. They had fallen back into step, the conversation flowing unprovoked. It seemed that whatever they had done to clear the air on Friday night was to stick. There wasn’t a droplet of tension left to linger and for that, Valerie was overjoyed.

However, she was hesitant to claim that it felt like nothing happened. Because, really, she wasn’t even sure if she even wanted to. It was long past the point of wishing for do-overs. (And if she was being completely honest, she was becoming acquainted with the idea that it was  _ okay _ that everything had ended in such a fabulous disaster. She and Axl were stronger because of it.)

He still held down the job as night manager at Tower Records, too, which took up a night per week. That single shift had been last night, hence the reason he hadn’t been able to make it Shirley’s, so she supposed that she should have considered herself lucky that it had been a busier night than most. School was back in session for most of the local institutions, and even if the area wasn’t the best suited for kids, several groups of students had stopped by for coffee and cheap waffles. She had been frazzled, but occupied. 

Besides, she wasn’t intimidated by teenagers, not in the slightest. She could handle the worst of ‘em, even with her boss drilling holes into the back of her head the whole time.

Day by day,  _ that _ situation was becoming more of a beast to be tamed, as well. 

Valerie wasn’t sure if Ed was becoming suspicious of Axl or not, but he had taken to over-scrutinizing her performance whenever Axl wasn’t there. He had started to back off just before last Friday, finally retreating into his private office for most of her shift, yet Axl’s reappearance last Saturday had the man remerging to observe her last night. Much to her chagrin. 

Surely Axl wasn’t too intimidating that Ed was  _ actually _ hesitant to reprimand her when he was in her company. Valerie acknowledged that Axl had a prickly sort of exterior, one that wasn’t the most inviting nor the easiest to handle, but he was still so young and so inconsequential. Any man that thought to open a diner on the Sunset Strip ought to know how to handle a rowdy musician or two. 

But then again, Valerie guessed she shouldn’t put too much thought into why Ed wasn’t making her life more difficult. For as long as she was able, she should probably take advantage of the fact that he was letting her skate by with relative ease. 

Because, in all truthfulness, she probably deserved just that—solid reproof. 

She was hardly able to focus on the actual menial tasks her job required, even less so when there were other waitresses on the clock. And whatever downtime she unearthed went directly into whatever aimless debate Axl had dredged up for the time being. Her first priority was almost never the needs of a belligerently drunk customer. 

_ Oh well.  _

She didn’t care all too much about employment anymore. It was just something to kill time with, to make ends meet. They were entering the dead time of the year, as it was. Not too many patrons came looking for breakfast at midnight when they had no adrenaline-fuelled thrill to keep them up. The winding down of the summer brought upon the wilting of nearly every facet of the California atmosphere. 

Although, to Val, the most difficult aspect of this rapidly approaching colder season wasn’t even the realization that her time would move by even slower. It was the fact that she still had to wear the skirt. The outfit was no longer sexy when her knees were knocking together and her legs were tinged blue. 

She was glad that it was warmer tonight, though. Dressed in a black leather mini-skirt and matching mesh top, the backstage heat was actually almost too much to bear; the warmth of Slash and Izzy’s bodies pressed up against her on either side being no help. 

“‘Sup fuckers!” Duff shouted abruptly. “Let’s fucking go, it’s show time!” 

His sudden entrance dragged her from her reflection. He clambered in loudly and without paying mind to the fragile, expensive equipment that was scattered everywhere around him. There were a few girls standing behind him, their dresses short and their hair done up high. That same tanned girl from before was still wrapped around his waist, though Valerie was nearly certain she was lacking an article or two of clothing. Duff’s hair was mussed. 

Good for him.

Izzy groaned at the noise, lifting his hand up to cover his face. 

Valerie glanced down at her watch. Duff had been late, but they technically had four minutes until they really had to start thinking about getting things together. 

“Slash!” Jill called, walking behind the couch and nudging him. “You breathin’?” 

There was a small grumble from deep within his chest that signified potential awareness. Jill took a seat on the arm of the couch. 

“Say, Duff.” One of the girls from behind him questioned. She had thick, dark curls and a bold, pink lip. The tight gold dress she wore showed off some of the longest legs that Valerie had ever seen. “This band of yours got a lead singer?” 

“Uh,” Duff chuckled and grinned down at the girl in his arms. “We do, yeah. But fuck me if I know where—”

“Ah, Axl?” Jill interrupted. She crossed her legs and leaned her chin on her hand. There was a thoroughly entertained expression highlighting her features. “He doesn’t show up until the show’s already started.” 

Valerie kept her mouth shut. It’s not like she knew where Axl was, anyways, and there was a thick jealousy that was perilously beginning to creep up her throat. She couldn’t embarrass herself this early on. 

Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she furiously coached herself to drop it—to remember that this was the standard practice when you got yourself tangled up with a rockstar. 

The efforts were fruitless. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake it. Her lips were going numb from being pressed so hard together.

She knew that she wasn’t the first girl that had fallen for Axl and that, if they kept on their current path, she certainly wouldn’t be the last. But this was the first time she had ever been confronted with that branch of reality. She didn’t like it. 

“Oh, alright.” The girl frowned, dejected. “Maybe I’ll find him after the show, yeah?” 

That flirtatious clip to her syllables returned, followed by a series of bubblegum pink giggles. Valerie sighed. She hadn’t quite learned how to charm men like that yet. 

And this girl  _ was _ very pretty, truly. 

Clearing her throat, Valerie looked up. “Well—”

“Probably not.” Steven hollered as he strolled into the room. “Axl’s not really into women like that.”

“Steven,” Jill laughed. “Come on.” 

“Oh, I didn’t realize he was—”

“No, it’s just—he’s a fuckin’ virgin.” Izzy overruled gravely, mumbling. It startled a laugh from Valerie. She forgot how immature the boys could be.

“He’s not lying.” Duff nodded. 

“He’s never even  _ touched _ a set of tits like that.” Steven chuckled, gesturing at the girl’s chest. 

Jill scoffed now. “Steven—”

Sitting up, Izzy lifted a sly smile.“It’d be like high school all over again.” 

“Five seconds and  _ boom _ ,” Steven mimed an explosion with his hands, “Game over.” 

The girl blinked. Her eyes bounced on every member of the group, an unreadable expression coloring her face. “Uh, okay?” 

Then she turned and whispered something to the girl next to her, who smacked her gum loudly and shook her head. They promptly turned and left, arising from the room another round of giggles. 

“Y’all don’t make it easy for him, do you?” Valerie asked, smiling. She was just glad that the situation had been avoided. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Steven replied, grinning wide. “Oh, by the way, this is Venus.” 

He gestured to the girl linked to his side. She had short, brown hair and a devilish grin. The skin that wasn’t encased in black netting was covered in tattoos. Valerie could see the enlarged size of her pupils from across the room. 

“You two a thing?” Duff mused curiously. 

Steven shrugged and wound his arm tighter around Venus, who turned to sniffle and wipe at her nose. “What d’you say, honey?”

“Sounds fucking  _ great _ .” She responded, closing her teeth around his earlobe and pulling down.

It was evident that she was already significantly faded, given by the way she teetered unsteadily in her black stilettos.

Valerie averted her eyes, unsurprised when she met gazes with Duff. He raised his eyebrows and mouthed to her:  _ one week _ . 

She shook her head and gestured back:  _ two _ . 

“Pack it up, lovebirds.” said Izzy as he moved to stand up. He wobbled unsteadily for a moment before grabbing purchase on the arm of the couch. “I’m getting on stage.” 

He reached over Valerie to punch Slash on the shoulder. “Wake the fuck up, man. Let’s go.” 

This time Slash actually awoke, his arms flailing desperately as he attempted to gain hold of his surroundings. The same top-hat he usually wore was still on his head, lopsided. He steadied it with a shaking hand. 

“We on?” 

“Yeah, dude.” Steven responded, untangling from Venus and grabbing his drumsticks from his back pocket, twirling them between his fingers. 

“Shouldn’t you be waiting for Axl?” Valerie asked. She followed in their footsteps and climbed to her feet. 

“You let us know how that goes, alright?” Duff replied, grabbing his bass off the floor and taking a swig from the Jack Daniels. “Show starts now and we don’t got time for Axl’s fuckin’ game. He’ll show up eventually. Lisa?” 

He extended a hand for his girl. She took it and was led away. 

“C’mon, Val. If you wanna squeeze our way up to the front then we gotta go now.” proclaimed Jill. 

“Alright, alright.” Valerie conceded. “Last time I sit back here with you guys, by the way.” 

“You wanna ride with the band?” Slash inquired as he threw an arm over her shoulder. “Then you gotta stick through the parts like these.” 

“What parts?” She retorted. “When your singer is AWOL and the rest of y’all are half asleep? Nuh uh, call me after.” 

“Ouch, what would Axl think?” Duff asked, placing his pick between his teeth and lifting the strap of his instrument over his head.

“Well, we wouldn’t know.” Jill responded. She latched onto Valerie’s wrist and pulled her away from the men, who moved to gather on the side of the stage. “He’s not here.” 

From where she was standing, Val could hear the clamour of the audience. Even though they had a bit of a walk to where the crowd was congregated, the miscellaneous shouts and jeers spiraled in her head. She was filled with a long awaited sense of euphoria. 

“Just you wait,” Steven returned. “This’ll be the best one yet.” 

Rolling her eyes, Valerie smiled wide. “I don’t fucking doubt it. We’ll catch you guys after. Crush it.” 

The two girls turned away after that, Lisa and Venus close on their heels. The two other girls from earlier were nowhere to be seen, but Val wasn’t put off by it. She knew it sounded petty, but Valerie was pretty sure she’d be okay with never seeing them again. 

“You think Axl’s gonna show up anytime soon?” Jill asked, throwing her head over her shoulder. Her makeup was glittery beneath the dim lighting of the club, the golden dust on her eyelids shimmering.

“Hell no.” Valerie responded. 

“That’s gonna get him in some hot water one day.” replied Jill. 

Valerie liked that Jill had an optimistic outlook about the future of the band. She shrugged nonetheless, feeling a smirk bloom on her face. “I know.” 

There was nothing that screamed  _ rockstar _ more than showing up late to your own concert. 

In most people’s books, she was sure it made him a complete dick; an inconsiderate asshole. To Valerie, however, she admired the fact that he didn’t live on anybody’s clock but his own. He was almost unyielding in that sense. 

Even if he was willing and able to show up on time, he simply did not. And it was purely because he wanted to prove to the world that he didn’t fucking  _ have to _ and that the only person that got to steer his ship was himself. 

It was almost like looking in a mirror, she decided. When he was particularly rigid in his determination to do things his own way, Valerie saw herself. To her, it seemed as if they both understood that, above all else, it was most important to live freely and for yourself. 

That wasn’t to say they were selfish creatures, because she didn’t think they were any more self-indulgent than the average human being; any more vain than the typical young person desperately crawling their way through the world and looking for any recognizable semblance of their true selves. 

Then again, maybe they were. She didn’t know many people that had made a complete lifestyle out of taking no shit and giving into their vices. This twisty, winding road wasn’t one that most people took. Not out of fear, necessarily, but out of an inability to dig deep within themselves and pull out the monster that yearned to live unconstrained; that was able to power itself solely on adrenaline and rapturous bliss. 

There were so few free souls left on the planet that true self-actualization was no longer a right, but a privilege. One that Axl had bestowed upon her. 

Because it was different for the two of them. It wasn’t a deep rooted, instinctual need to defy authority and push back, but rather, the hard-won product of years and years of being told nothing but  _ no _ . 

Gaining independence after being locked away for so long rarely ever brought about a smooth transition. Every prisoner had an unsteady, white-knuckled craving for freedom. 

It was for that very reason that Valerie had spent her first few months in L.A. doing everything she hadn’t been able to do in West Plains. She sped down highways in the middle of night, drank herself drunk atop rooftops, fucked anybody who was willing to give her a breath of new scenery; anything that was able to satiate that constant, burning need for a quick fix. 

And, though she couldn’t be sure, she liked to think it was the same reason that Axl belligerently dove from stages nearly nightly, rarely ever arrived at functions on time, and had covered himself to the teeth in dark ink. It was a series of choices that she could only assume he hadn’t been able to make back in Lafayette. 

Axl hadn’t divulged most of the details, but Valerie was patient enough to wait for them. For now, all she could do was assume that he lived under a similar philosophy—it was a hypothesis that she had always been overwhelmingly inundated with. 

It always boiled down to basic belief that they were spiritual magnets; bound by some unseen, metaphysical thirst for the power to reach the peak of human exaltation; and to do it together. 

Suddenly, Valerie sensed the absence of Jill’s hand from around her upper arm. She glanced around. 

Sometime amongst her internal considerations, they had somehow navigated their way to the front of the stage. The stakes of the place were low enough that she could actually be pressed up against the stage, the rough edge of it digging into her chest. There wasn’t a security guard in sight. 

Valerie found that she preferred the more intimate atmosphere of these shows. She had seen her fair share stadium tours, which were met with equal enthusiasm. Yet, there was nothing that could beat that unfiltered sense of being a part of the act. It was one she only received when packed close and tight in these shitty nightclubs, where every member of the crowd was here mostly to prove that they had nothing better to do than to rock. 

The boys were on stage, tinkering with their instruments. Duff plucked away at his bass while Izzy and Slash tuned and strummed at their guitars. 

Now that she had been directly a part of their pre-show ritual, it was clear to see that Slash and Izzy were absolute goners. While they didn’t move from their places, they wavered slightly in their stances, as if the stage below them was rippling. If she were any reasonable judge, she’d guessed that they were a single strong breeze from losing balance entirely. 

She had no clue how they pulled it off. 

The fact that Axl had been the most mobile member on stage had never been anything short of painfully obvious, of course. He was as  _ in-your-face _ as a frontman possibly could be. He took the stage and made it his, rebranding it; dominating it. 

It was a microphone in one hand, the world in the other. 

But,  _ damn _ , she had never really noticed how zoned out the other boys were. Not this early on, at least. 

A brief reference downwards to her watch stated that Axl was twenty minutes late. God, he never made anything fucking easy. 

Steven struck on his drums, rattling off quick little beats that held no purpose than to give the room a break from the still ambience. Even behind the large kit, he was still smiling. The hot lights above reflected off the white of his teeth. 

Valerie felt the vague presence of Venus beside her. Casting her head to the side, Valerie could see that she had her eyes locked directly on the blonde man. She was intense and fixating, creating a reaction that clashed with Steven’s utterly carefree aura. 

She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she liked it. It was chaotic and troublesome. 

And even if Steven’s sex drive only permitted about a week of stability for the two, Val was marginally jealous over how simple it had been for them. They had gone from being nothing to something after a single question that Steven had hurdled out with little thought. 

There had been no weeks of inner turmoil, no disastrous accidents that halted any form of relationship progression. And positively no hesitance. 

It went from possibility to reality, just like that. 

What they had was a quick, easy love. She turned back to the stage and exhaled, biting down on her lip. 

Sometimes that was all she wanted. A delicate love that was kind to her, laid soft on her skin, and held gently onto her heart. An uncomplicated sort of romance where she might expect to find sentimental notes tucked into her coat pocket or flowers on her doorstep. Where the only currency was barely there kisses pressed to her cheeks and the feeling of her hand pressed against his. 

Sometimes what she wanted, more than anything, was for Axl to just gather her into his arms and hold her there, hooked beneath his chin; safe.

Valerie sighed. She guessed those would simply have to remain the contents of a parallel universe. One where he didn’t cultivate a lifestyle of tearing himself to shreds for the entertainment of the people. One where she knew how to be loved properly. 

A shriek of microphone feedback steered her focus from her thoughts. The crowd shifted against her. 

“Wake up!” came a familiar, shrill scream from the side of the stage. She threw her head to the side, searching for any sight of him, hardly able to see over the masses that replicated her movements. 

The same chords that came to signify the opening of a show began to pour from the speakers. A series of chills wavered down her spine. 

Axl emerged onto the stage, clad in leather and enshrouded in a plume of fiery, teased hair.

He looked fully wild; a bona fide rocker. 

She took back everything she said. 

Those gentle expectations were too fucking seeped in fantasy. 

He could love her well, but he would love her hard. There would be no room left for softness or tenderness. He would tear into her flesh with bare teeth, break her in with the pressure of his fingers in her mouth. 

Valerie could see it plainly. Any great love tied between them wouldn’t be written between the lines of a note nor the twisted within petals of a flower. It would be woven into their entwined limbs and laced in the venomous poison that flowed from the fingertips wrapped around her neck. It would be gritty and rough; hollowed-out and dirty. It would be loud and harsh, strong enough to bend the spine of whatever god she had decided to piss off for the day. 

It would be love, undoubtedly, but one that shook the stars from the sky instead of collecting them.

“Time to die!” Axl finished, his voice hoarse. 

It would be deadly, but so fucking  _ alive _ . 

The shouts of the crowd were deafening, crawling into her senses and rattling her bones. From all sides, nameless bodies were pressed against her, pushing her further to the stage. 

She was close enough that she could hook her elbow over the base of it, her arm grinding uncomfortably over discarded black wires. Valerie observed the chaos with wide eyes. 

The band had fallen completely into their element. 

Izzy and Slash warred each other on guitars, the former shredding the strings of his black Gibson with a reckless abandon so uncharacteristic to his aloof demeanor. 

The dark-haired man had always had a peculiar self-control here that he seemed to lack off-stage. He was threatening and barbaric; ungentle. For once, he possessed a full range of motion, one that sent sharp, blistering notes pouring into the packed venue.

Slash, on the other hand, fit much better with his typical manner of going about things. He handled his guitar loosely, but with enough affection to reduce anyone to tears. His fingers moved slow and deliberately up the fretboard, despite the pounding tempo of the song. He wasn’t overwhelmed. He took things at his own pace, slowing the world to fit his desires. 

It was really no surprise that he appeared to be wholly unaware of the girls that were nearly clambering up the front of the stage at his feet. Several times, their bejeweled hands nicked the sides of his untied boots as he pivoted precariously in his spot and sent a head nod to Duff.

The bassist was in another realm altogether. There was a specific zone, a precise frame of mind, that Duff sent himself to when he got up on stage. The way that his hips rocked against the body of the instrument, his chest heaving as he threw his head back and exhaled, displayed this fully. The deftness of his fingers never once wavered, though, as he spilled out one of the strongest basslines that she’d heard in a while. Each note sent a punch directly to her throat; one that twinged with slight pain in the best way possible.

But even Duff’s pure dedication paled in comparison to Steven’s sheer enthusiasm. 

The blonde man beat on his drums and crashed the symbols with an expression plastered on his face that was nothing short of ecstatic. He was so happy to be there, so enthralled with the prospect of being involved with some of the hottest, hardest music that the rock scene had heard in fucking years. 

Yet, this didn’t take away from his beastly prowess on the drums. He may have been uncharacteristic in the sense that he was injected with an unbridled optimism, but he still thundered through the beats without mistake. Even if nobody else would, Valerie couldn’t ignore talent like that. It shone too brightly on too many of their songs. 

And Valerie had been to enough shows by now that she was familiar with the entirety of their setlist. 

“Welcome to the Jungle” was one that never failed to leave her stunned, regardless. It was somehow the complete encapsulation of every facet of the image they so desperately tried to project onto the scene, doing so without taking itself too seriously. The lyrics were raw and abrasive in texture, ones that painted a grotesque mural of the L.A. streets. They were words that would rip a disturbing hole in the chests of the comfortable, and lull to peace those who weren’t. 

Perhaps the reason the track was so impactful was because the lines were true. There were moments where even she was fully acquainted with the fact that times around here very much could be life or death. 

Pair that crushing reality with Axl’s aggressive, vulgar vocals, and she was well prepared for the day that it would make waves on the charts.

Subconsciously, her eyes shifted back to him. It felt like her soul was coming home to rest.

Axl looked good; fresh-faced and energetic. He was very obviously blissfully unaware of the toil that had occurred over his truancy, as well as the way in which his friends had so thoroughly damaged his reputation to those girls. 

He wore a torn graphic t-shirt beneath an obnoxiously large fur coat that Valerie had never seen before. It was very obviously fake. 

His ruthless yelling as he leapt across the stage wasn’t exactly in conjunction with his eccentric way of dressing, but she was as attracted to this façade as she was the first time she had set her sights on him. 

Back all those months ago, when she had been half-steeped in the June blues and attending her first show, her priorities were all in disarray. What she had wanted more than anything in that moment was for Axl to pick her out of the crowd, to recognize her face amongst the masses. 

That was long past reality now. Three months later and she had him. 

Not fully, obviously; not yet. But she was ambiguously aware of the fact that the tides were shifting on that one. The odds were increasingly creeping in their favor.

Valerie had stood in the crowd before him in the clothing that hadn’t fit the scene, fawning upwards with awe glittering in her eyes like a fucking child. She had been so drenched in naïvety, so unaware of the thrills that fizzled beneath the surface, so out of touch with her deepest desires. 

Until he had taken her hand and guided her to the top, she had no idea that life could ever reach a point so high. 

Life was worth living, she had always been mostly attuned to that unalienable fact, it had just taken her a minute to find her groove and seek out the kicks that fit her definition of the word.

Not only had she been a complete stranger to the prospect of sharing her life with another, she was wholly unprepared for the way he warped her perceptions and expanded her horizons. Every moment further in time brought her closer to Axl. She was hurtling down a hill, nonstop, full speed ahead; all breaks cut. 

Valerie aimed to crash directly into him. 

The band rattled off a handful of other songs; nothing that deviated too far from average. There was a point halfway through “Out Ta Get Me” in which Axl stopped singing to shout at a couple of overly animate drunkards that were vying to climb onto the stage, but other than that, it was relatively bumpless. 

She still maintained that the most intimidating thing about Axl was that he was so willing to throw himself into whatever fight he desired. He didn’t ever consider the implications of that reckless temerity. He didn’t ever think through the inescapable reality that those he usually challenged were much bigger than him, much stronger than him. 

Axl would consistently power through all reason to assert himself. When one was caught on the wrong side of that, it was terrifying. 

She would know. 

Quickly, he switched gears. The shoulders that heaved with irritation lightened as he retreated backwards. He knocked the fur coat from his shoulders, throwing it somewhere to the side of the stage. Shaking his hair out, the smile that split his face was wicked and knowing.

Valerie watched the veins in his hands flex as he wrapped them around the microphone stand. He treated the structure with such a flippant gentleness that it nauseated her. The shivers that erupted in patches over her skin clashed with the severe humidity holding her in a chokehold. 

“I think it’s safe to say that we’ve broken in the joint.” Axl chuckled, glancing back at his band.

The crowd jeered, just glad to be acknowledged.

“I’m seeing a lot of cool fuckin’ faces out there.” said Axl, before he added facetiously, “Pretty girls, too.” 

He snagged her eye and winked.

A ripple the size of a tsunami ravaged itself in the pit of her stomach. Her body was a small, flickering match that his words had just poured kerosine all over.

Jill nudged her with an elbow and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. When Valerie rolled her eyes, her friend dissolved into a fit of giggles that could scarcely be heard over the commotion. 

On some level, she assumed that Axl was simply unaware of the sex appeal that he possessed. It was true that it was an indisputable hallmark trait of all frontmen—that and a charismatic stage presence—but he just pulled it off so effortlessly, so naturally, that she couldn’t be sure.

“Speakin’ of pretty girls,” He continued, his deep voice scratching the speakers. “This one’s dedicated to the underground scene that made Guns N’ fuckin’ Roses what it is.”

“Rocket Queen” began, sending him into a drum-backed, lust-fueled frenzy. 

Axl stood centerstage, one hand wrapped around the microphone and the other left to wander down the span of his body. Flickering through her mind at a rapid pace were various splices of things; mostly snapshot memories of her lips gliding along that same span of skin.

Her head shook imperceptibly.  _ No _ . He had to have been aware of it. Because there was absolutely no way in hell that he wasn’t weaponizing that attribute to the fullest extent of his power. He must have taken pleasure in driving her wild. 

He knew how Val felt about him. He knew precisely how his actions would drive her crazy, roping her in before hanging her out to dry. He recognized beauty and utilized it, perverted it.

Axl was cut from some different cloth, though. He wasn’t built like the men that were plastered on the pages of the magazines on their coffee table. Not one part of his physique reflected that, actually. 

He was slender. His wrists were slim and his collarbones were sharp. His hair was red and soft, the lines of his hips deadly. He was fit, undeniably so, but in a hidden sort of way. It was a glamour that was muddled unless one treated it with special care. 

There was a clashing mixture of vanity present. Something both so charming and fatal was so goddamn contrasting that the average eye of the beholder rarely ever had the chance to understand the magnanimity of what they were looking at before he shifted once more. 

Perhaps that’s what had always been so shocking to Valerie. She was never sure if she should focus on the way that Axl’s soft allure had consistently left her arrested of all movement or on the method in which his dangerous carnality robbed her of breath entirely, leaving her gasping for air. 

She couldn’t catch a break. And, truly, all she wanted to do was climb her way up onto the stage, grab him by the collar, and kiss him. 

The bass solo ended. Axl switched from promiscuous to sentimental with a quick shift of the light. 

For some reason, the last verses of this song held a special place in her heart. She didn’t know if it was the effect of the dramatic shift in tempo and demeanor or just the raw emotion that fled from his chest, but the words lingered in her brain for far longer than she would have liked to admit. 

Everything about him did.

God, she was on fucking  _ fire _ . 

This complete and utter agony was flaying her alive. One more moment of this touch-and-go and she’d wither to pieces. 

A plan formulated in her head. 

The moment after the show ended, she was going to find him. She was going to hunt him down and tear him into two. 

Valerie was so damn tired of waiting. 

Never before had there been a man that drove her to such lengths of hysteria, that reduced her to such shambles. She wasn’t a puppet in anyone else’s hands, so why his? 

Why was she so afraid to take the jump they were both bracing for? 

Axl had asked for time last Friday, a slight reprieve from the heaviness of that night’s discussions. But a week had eclipsed by now, the clock was dwindling down. Her patience was running thin. 

“Last fuckin’ song and then I’m getting a goddamn drink, alright?” Axl informed, smirking. “Here’s ‘Mr.  _ fuckin’ _ Brownstone, you assholes.” 

The stringed instruments rolled out, followed by a steady drumbeat. They had never closed a set with this track, so the change of routine rattled her. Valerie had been fully prepared for the loud vibrancy of ‘Paradise City’. 

_ Axl was always full of surprises, wasn’t he?  _

The lyrics of the song were moderately ironic, considering that both Izzy and Slash had definitely shot up prior to the start of the set. (Possibly Steven as well, if she really thought about it). And while they had never talked about it, Valerie had always gotten the sense that the boys’ copious drug usage partially unnerved Axl. 

She briefly wondered where he was able to draw the line. Was there even one drawn? Or was everything about the performance just a fluid display of one of the most rigid instances of cognitive dissonances known to man?

Axl threw his arm over Slash’s shoulders and smiled. 

Not now, though. There was nothing at play here. Not when he was losing himself to the beast of the spotlight. Not when the unmitigated hubris flowed through his veins, like she knew it did when the adrenaline rush hit. 

When he got to play God for the evening, nothing could slow him down. 

He brought the microphone to his mouth, “I should’ve known better,”

Valerie looked over at Jill, who was turned to the stage. The eternal, flashing smile was still etched into her features. 

“Said I wish I never met her.”

Val knew this wasn’t exactly her best friend’s scene, and yet, she always managed to have her own sort of fun. Jill was plainly content to find her own little sphere of peace amongst the thrill of the endless chaos. 

“Said I leave it all— _ behind _ .” 

Jill’s eyes had been bouncing from Slash to Duff, but she turned at Valerie’s movements. Her smile deepened. Despite her inner unrest, Val was powerless to fight off a matching grin. 

She was quite possibly the only person in the world that could reduce the depressing reality of a song that was all about heroin misuse. 

“ _ Yowsa _ !” Axl shrieked with one final shrill breath, throwing his head back. 

The song ended and the music cut out. The space was immediately filled by the claps and cheers of the crowd. More so than before, she felt the masses swarm against her. 

A shout released itself from the base of her chest as she raised her arms above her head. The bracelets on her wrist slipped down her arms, jangling. The angst and impatience had replaced itself with excitement. For a split second, she’d wished she paid a closer mind to the show. 

“Alright, fuckers.” He turned back to the microphone. “You fucking rocked, holy shit.” 

Axl paused to accommodate the pure calamity that spilled from the audience. A sharp electricity descended over the room, every random brush against her skin felt like crackling contact with an exposed wire. 

“The boys and I’ll be back, you can bet your asses.” The sweat on his skin glinted beneath the harsh lights of the stage. “But for now, we’re gonna fucking party.”

He wrestled to catch his breath. “ _ Shit _ .” 

The other four boys waved in a disinterested display of acknowledgement. Their minds were very obviously wired elsewhere. 

So was hers. 

“Good fuckin’ night, L.A.” Duff shouted.

Axl then peeled away to leave. 

The other men loitered, coiling up wires and shouting at members in the audience. Valerie pivoted her neck, looking for breaks in the crowd. She’d need to exit quickly if she had any hopes of catching him anytime soon. 

There, behind Venus, she spotted an opening. A clearing. 

Unhooking her arms from over the edge of the stage, she set her sights on it and ducked behind the girl. She just had to worm her way through and—

“Actually, fuck that. Hold on, hold on.” 

The sound of Axl’s voice rooted her in place. Angling her head up, she watched him climb back onto the stage. 

At the prospect of an unplanned encore, the crowd grew rambunctious once more. The exit behind Venus sealed. Well, shit. 

“There’s something that’s been driving me up the wall all night and I gotta get it off my chest, y’all alright with that?” He asked from the side of the stage.

_ Oh, great. Here they go _ . 

The crowd went batshit crazy instantly. They really just ate anything up out here. 

Slash and Izzy looked up from their guitars, Duff and Steven broke apart from their conversation behind the drum kit. All eyes were focused on Axl, equipping for the shitstorm he was about to ignite. 

“Valerie, where the fuck are you?”

From behind Venus, her eyes widened and her stomach dropped.

Slowly, she peaked her head up and returned to her original place. When they locked eyes, he discarded the microphone and broke into a run. 

He reached her and dropped to the floor. The crash of his knees on the surface of the stage resounded in her head like a gunshot. Her extremities went numb and her heart constricted in her chest. 

There was no fucking way. 

“Oh, fuck. Get her up here, guys.” 

Quickly, she looked over at Jill. Her soft face was quizzical. 

_ Is this what you want?  _

Valerie consented with a single nod of her head. 

_ More than anything. _

Jill gathered a few members of the audience and, suddenly, Valerie felt her feet leave solid ground. 

Mysterious hands gripped the thighs that were then hoisted onto unknown shoulders. She didn’t stop to examine any of them. Her eyes sought out one thing and one thing only. 

His gaze was fierce but his face was kind. Everything about him was open. 

“Come on, Val. C’mere.” 

She felt his hands wrap around her chest to drag her upwards, rough and firm. Her knees hit the floor without grace and she grappled for balance. 

“Axl, what the—”

Without explanation, he coiled an arm around the small of her back and gripped her jaw. The heart in her throat was the only fact of reality that she was able to compute. Then, his lips were on hers. 

Once again, he was kissing her. Hard. 

And, without much thought, she was kissing back. 

The blood rushing in her ears all but drowned out the outright pandemonium that broke out amongst the audience. 

_ Holy fuck _ . 

She was kissing back! 

His hair was sweat-slicked but she wound her fingers in it anyways. Every inch of him was covered in countless layers of grime. She couldn’t care less. 

After months of waiting, they had reached the apex. It took the form of her half-dragged onto the stage after a show, all over him, and with what felt like the whole world to see. 

Valerie didn’t feel the gaze of the onlookers, though. All that she was familiar with was the way he invaded every single one of her senses at the moment. Everything she felt, tasted, saw...it was all Axl. It was all  _ him _ . 

At this point in her life, everything seemed to be. 

In an ideal world, it would have stayed that way, too. But the oxygen soon ran out and she pulled away, chest heaving. His green eyes regarded her carefully, searching for any sign of apprehension or rejection. 

Valerie knew that he was going to turn up empty-handed. 

She leaned in again and pressed another chaste kiss to his lips. Then another. 

“I’m sorry.” His hand shifted to hold the back of her neck. To be heard over the crowd, he had to shout.

She furrowed her brow. “For what?” 

Axl’s hand squeezed her waist. “The wait.” 

Valerie chuckled and looked down, she was barely even able to register how close she was pressed up against him. “Worth it, I think.”

From an unknown source, raging music poured from the overhead speakers. The club returned to its standard, unregulated chaos. The hands that had lifted her up to him had disappeared. The only thing keeping her upright was his unwavering grip. 

“Oh this? This was nothing. ” Axl asked, bending down and pressing his lips to her ear. “Just you wait— _ just you fucking wait _ ‘til I can get you alone, Val.” 

Her cheek slid against his, soft and slow. Internally, she shuddered.

Valerie pulled back and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Beneath the lights of the stage, his wild hair surrounded the sharp lines of his face like a fiery halo. 

“We’re making good on our promises now?” She teased softly.

“Come on, baby.” Axl groaned, throwing his head back. “You know that’s the one thing I've always done.” 

Valerie shrugged. “Maybe I just like hearing you say it, then.” 

Axl laughed, quick and harsh. “You get me outta this fuckin’ place and I’ll tell you anything you wanna hear.” 

She raised her eyebrows, smirking. “Alright.” 

He made a move to raise to his feet, his arm unweaving from around her neck. An irrepressible need formed in her chest.

“Wait.” Her fingers latched onto his belt, securing him in place.

Axl looked down over the bridge of his nose, concern blooming over his features. “What?”

“Kiss me again.” 

His face broke into an unrestrained smile. Never had she seen such joy light him up. The outright thrill she received over being the one responsible for it would never dim. It felt the same as it did that first night in the diner all those months ago, when she’d managed to capture his attention. It felt like an indisputable victory; an insurmountable success.

Axl leaned down, their noses brushing. When his lips grazed against hers, her head tilted back and fell into the rough hand that was held out to cradle it. Her hand curled into the damp fabric covering his chest.

This was it. This was where she was meant to be. 

There, wrapped in his arms on the filthy fucking stage that he devoted too much of his goddamn life to, the overhead lights setting her alight. On all sides, she was surrounded in a turbulent white noise that paid absolutely no mind to them. 

It was finally okay for them to just  _ exist _ . For the first time, the world was content enough to simply let them be. 

They broke away, exhaling heavily; foreheads pressed together. She pushed a thick lock of the knotted hair behind his ear. 

Suddenly— _ powerfully _ —emotion welled in her chest. 

“You know—” Valerie paused to collect her breath. “You know I love you, right?” 

She was nearly sure that he had understood last week, but she repeated it regardless. He  _ had _ to know. 

His eyes drifted shut, a light chuckle spilling from outwards. “I know.” 

A loud, barreling laugh ripped from her then and she lunged forward, crashing against him and throwing her arms around his shoulders. Axl stumbled at first, then caught her, holding her tight against him. Valerie didn’t think she’d ever be able to part. 

Sometime later, he took her by the hand and led her backstage. Then, like the crinkled, amber leaves sent spiraling towards the ground by the brisk September winds, they fell into each other. 


	14. queen of the highway.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw: nsfw content, references to abuse

_ Sunday, September 21st, 1986. _

“Come on, Ax. Just you and me. Let’s do something.”

He readjusted the phone, positioning it between his shoulder and neck. From one hand to the other passed a stack of unfinished lyrics. “Like what?” 

Valerie exhaled, humming. “Anything. I don’t care. I’m bored and I wanna see you.” 

Axl chuckled. “You saw me last night.” 

“And?”

He shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “Fair.” 

“Tell you what,” Valerie suggested. “You still at Steven’s?” 

Looking up, he threw a glance towards the blonde man who was passed out on the couch. A half-naked Venus lay draped over his body, out cold. 

Axl sighed. “Yeah.” 

“I’ll swing by in ten, be ready.” challenged Valerie. He could  _ hear _ the smile on her face. 

“Alright. See ya.” he responded, throwing the phone back into its cradle and standing up. 

And he didn’t ask about her intentions, because he didn’t care. He’d jump headfirst into anything she desired purely because she did. 

Axl always would have, of course, but it was different now. There were new romantic implications to everything. In some loose sense of the term, she was his girlfriend now. 

Though God knew they’d been much more for much longer. 

He traded his black gym shorts for a pair of loose fitting denim jeans. After he covered his bare chest with a baggy t-shirt, he grabbed the leather jacket that was thrown over the back of the kitchen chair. 

Axl ran through a quick inventory. Money, cigarettes, lighter.  _ Check _ . 

Wait. 

He made his way over Steven’s turned-out pair of pants and rifled through the pockets, extracting what he needed. Condoms, check. 

Axl smirked to himself. One could never be too safe. 

(And if the past couple nights were any indication of what was to come, he definitely wanted to be prepared). 

It was Sunday evening now, two days after the show. Two days since he’d risked everything by running back onto the stage and seeking her out. Two days since he fell to his knees and poured everything into her. Two days since she held him close and gave  _ back _ . 

He hadn’t come down since. 

By the time they had stumbled off the stage, his bandmates were nowhere to be seen. Jill, either. Axl assumed that they had broken away and hit the clubs, but he hadn’t put much thought into it. As they weaved around backstage, the only things that he had been fully conscious of at the time were the unbridled adrenaline that was coursing through his veins and the feeling of her body pressed against his.

He’d had plans to escort her to the bars, to take her dancing, but Valerie would have none of it. She kicked open the nearest empty dressing room and yanked him in after her. She was almost uncivilized in her enthusiasm and, even if he was undoubtedly eager to match it, there was so much to be said about the way her determination took form. It was like she’d been planning to prey upon him.

There was probably even more to be said about the way she dragged her long red nails across the surface of his chest and slid down to her knees before absolutely devouring him. 

It was best summarized like this: the best goddamn blowjob he’d ever received. 

Which, not to be arrogant, was not an insignificant amount. 

They’d been tamer at Shirley’s last night, but somehow even more unbearable. Axl felt slight pity towards the customers and Val’s coworkers, though it was largely drowned out by an overpowering sense of selfishness. There was something so special about being able to hold her hand from across the counter, about being able to throw his arm around her waist as they walked home. 

Since the moment he’d met her, there had been an irrepressible need deep in his chest to kiss her. Now, he could, so he did. There was quite possibly nothing on this Earth that could stop him. Not even Valerie’s hypervigilant boss, who looked to be minutes away from snapping him in two. 

Axl thought that Ed was seeming to become more and more of a pressing problem as each of her shifts labored on. The large, heavy-breathing man had no concept of boundaries and sat a little too close—for a little too long—for Axl’s liking. And then there was the personal problem that he had over Ed’s insistence that Val still had to wear the short skirt despite the approaching cold weather. Valerie told him to drop the concern over all of it. 

With difficulty, Axl complied. Sort of. 

He was ready to bash Ed’s face in at a moment’s notice, always. 

If he wanted to be on time for Val, however, he had to get his head out of the gutter. Restuffing the contents of his pockets, he backed out of the room and paid the sleeping couple no mind. They’d snuffed down a particularly strong burst of whatever shit had been tucked in Venus’ small purse anyways, it wasn’t like consciousness was anywhere near their imminent reality. 

Steven lived on the second floor of a dilapidated complex a few blocks off the Strip. Axl took the stairs. 

He didn’t really know why he continued to hang with Steven, given that the other man was so thoroughly absorbed by Venus. It made for too many long, awkward moments where the tension was so thick Axl wanted to choke himself; many of which were somehow made worse by the fact that the two of them weren’t playful in their outright obscenity. They were just genuinely  _ that _ horny...all the time. 

So even if he’d dragged his feet on the phone with Valerie, he was genuinely overjoyed at an excuse to leave. Brothers were brothers, but he’d seen a little too much of Steven over the past few days than he deemed comfortable. 

When he broke through the lobby door of the complex, the brisk night air swallowed him whole. He slid his arms into his jacket, flipping the collar up when he felt raindrops descend upon him. The wind whistled through the space between the fabric and his ears. His teeth rattled slightly. 

Autumn was here and in full force. 

A flashing brightness caused Axl to look up from the steps. Around the bend came Valerie carelessly, the piercing headlights of her faded truck tracing scribbles over the damp pavement. The body of the vehicle wiggled violently before it came to a loud, screeching halt at his side. Quickly, she turned the passenger window down. 

“Hey! Get in.” Valerie beamed, smiling. 

“You broke at least four traffic laws in the last ten feet alone.” Axl returned skeptically, stepping up to the car. 

“And? What, you wanna drive instead?” She asked, rolling her eyes. He could barely hear her over the sound of her windshield wipers working themselves into overdrive. 

“Yeah. Move over.” 

A brief look of shock crossed over her face before she shifted over to the right. Walking around to the driver’s seat, Axl wiped the rain from his face and hopped in the cab. The door slammed roughly behind him.

Before he gave her the chance to speak, he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Her hand latched onto his wrist tightly; first in surprise, then in encouragement. Her teeth scraped against his bottom lip when he pushed her against the headrest. He could feel her smile against his mouth. It filled him with an emotion so warm, so fuzzy, he temporarily forgot about the cold rain that had soaked through his shirt. 

When they parted, she reached back to place a few more kisses to his face; lingering especially on the corner on his lips before leaning back. 

Valerie’s proclivity for rapid, chaste kisses had been one that he’d picked up on immediately; she liked to give her love away in soft, gentle bursts. It felt good to be loved on so casually. 

She placed another to Axl’s chin before pushing him away, his back crashing against the slick seat.

Her face was self-satisfied, smug. Her smile was absolutely fucking wicked. 

“I  _ can _ drive, you know.” Valerie quipped. Her hair was uncurled and falling down her back. Her face was free of make-up. She was radiating an alarming sort of natural beauty that left him stunned. Beneath the yellow-gold glow of the dashboard light, her freckles were absolutely sparkling; dazzling. 

“As legally mandated by...who? Slash? I believe his speciality was BMX.” Axl readjusted the mirrors and turned down the wipers. “And there’s a reason he quit for music.” 

Valerie exhaled dramatically. “You’re horrible.” 

“You don’t really think that.” He smirked. 

“And if I did?” 

He shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

Valerie raised her eyebrows. “Been working on that one for a while?” 

“No, uh, I’m just naturally the fucking worst.” 

“If I had a dollar for everytime—”

He palmed the steering wheel, shifting subjects. “Alright, where to?” 

She gestured vaguely. “I don’t know, wherever.” 

“You didn’t have a plan?” Axl asked, looking over at her. 

“That  _ was _ the plan.” Valerie responded. 

“Okay, fine. I’ve gotta place in mind.” 

He leaned over to place his hand on the top of the seat behind her head, looking over his shoulder as he shifted the gear into reverse. Pulling out of the narrow street, he maneuvered the car outwards carefully. When he was sure the area was clear of pedestrians, he yanked the wheel to the side and hit the gas. 

Then, they were off. 

“Seatbelt?” She gestured downwards. 

Axl laughed. “Darlin’, who the fuck do you take me for?” 

He didn’t wait until they were out of the residential region to max the acceleration. The truck grumbled loudly beneath him. By the sound of it, he guessed that it must have been at least twenty years old. 

“Oh, but I’m the danger to the road?” Valerie asked sarcastically. 

He lifted his shoulders, smirking wide. She shook her head in annoyance. 

It wasn’t long, though, until she was cranking down her window and resting her arm over the ledge. Her excited laughter was deafening compared to the rustling of the wind. It filled the space with a jubilant warmth. Axl swore that the sound of it would have been bright enough to break through the dark rain clouds that clustered in the sky. It was the nectar of the heavens boxed into the chest of a twenty-something year old girl. Pure bliss. 

She didn’t care that the rain was pouring into the car, simply wiping her arm off before reaching over to turn up the dial of the radio. (He watched as she set it to an even number, as always). 

Aerosmith poured from the speakers next to his feet, some heartfelt hit that’d been popular when Axl hit puberty. It was far from a favorite of his, but Valerie liked it, so that was all that mattered. 

If he was being honest, this had been the exact reason that he’d wanted to drive. He had been aiming to catch her in this novel, careless light. One that wouldn’t have appeared if she was in charge of the truck. 

With the way that she was tilted away from him, her feet placed on the dashboard and fingers tangled in the beast of the wind, she was completely unaware of the glances he would steal. Axl couldn’t tear his eyes from the way in which the breeze whipped her hair into a circlet around her head. He couldn’t look away from the image of serenity—of complete comfort—etched onto her face, regardless of the fact that he was barreling down the road at double the speed limit. It was blind trust, plain and simple. 

The realization that he had been given such a weighty gift was the only thing that coaxed him to return his focus to the road every now and then. 

But it was a desert stretch; a completely abandoned one, at that. It seemed as if they were the only ones hightailing away from citylife on this inconsequential Sunday night. 

It was just Axl, Valerie, and the open road. 

The song ended and was quickly replaced by a thundering Deep Purple track, another one that he hadn’t heard in years. “Highway Star”.

How fitting. 

She jumped and turned the knob all the way towards her. He felt the bassline in every fiber of his being, more so than he did on stage. Everything about her dialed his sensitivity to eleven. 

Because of her, Axl felt. For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to. 

And for that alone, he owed her everything. 

He reached over and turned his window down, filling the cab with the powerful gusts. The windshield wipers were flipping around recklessly, any visual progress they’d made automatically erased by a fresh set of droplets. Visibility was low and the headlights were nearly useless, but he powered on undeterred. 

If it were up to him, and she stayed by his side, he was content to drive on forever. Until the road beneath them ended. (Or, at least, until the truck drained itself of gas). 

He glanced at the control panel. They had a solid three-quarters of a tank left. They were set for a good, long while. 

When he looked back over at her, she had removed her feet from the dash and pulled them to her chest. She was looking right at him. 

Axl turned the volume down, reducing the final guitar solo to background noise. “See somethin’ funny?” 

“You’re really nice to look at, you know.” 

He scoffed and readjusted his grip on the wheel. “Yeah, whatever.” 

“I’m serious,” She insisted. “I think I could look at you forever.” 

“Well, don’t.” Axl returned, pushing down the grin that threatened to envelop his features. “You’ll burn holes.” 

“Whatever.” She turned away in mock exasperation. “Where are you taking me, anyway?” 

“I’m driving ‘til you tell me to stop.” He pressed his foot farther on the pedal, having to shout over the wind. 

“You said you had a place in mind.” Valerie accused, narrowing her icy eyes.

“And  _ you _ said you had a plan,” Axl volleyed. “So I guess we’re both disappointments.” 

“Fair enough,” She reasoned. Then, she sighed. “Well, I guess this is as good a place as any. Pull off here, won’t you?” 

He complied, steering the wheel to the side and slamming on the brake. They jostled roughly from the gravel underfoot, the vehicle shaking as it attempted to straighten itself. Despite the torrential downpour, the region was still arid enough that their disturbance coughed up dust. Axl watched it billow around the triangle-shaped silhouettes of the headlights.

As he searched for a proper place to rest, Valerie rolled up her window. An unfamiliar quietness descended upon the car. 

He creeped further into the desert, slowly slightly. “Here?” 

Valerie nodded and he drove the brake into the floor. Every individual piece of the truck seemed to squeal in protest. 

“Be gentle!” She demanded, unbuckling her seatbelt and tapping the control console lovingly. “She’s all I got.” 

Axl threw the gear into park. “I watched you drive over two curbs at Steven’s.”

“That’s different.” 

“How?” 

“Fuck if I know.” Valerie then crawled across the cab. She threw one leg over his, straddling him and placing his jaw into her hands. Her weight was a welcome one. She filled his senses like the floral perfume that clung to her wrists. 

As she adjusted, he reached around her and turned the volume back up. 

She smiled down at him. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” He replied, then pressed a kiss to her lips. 

It was a maddeningly intoxicating thing to do, kissing Valerie. Ever since he’d had his first taste of her—all those weeks ago outside the Whisky—he’d been hooked. There were some nights that it was all he thought about, where the urge to curl up into her was stronger than any desire to sleep or breathe. 

The sensation of her on his lips was constant. And no matter how hard he tried, Axl had always been powerless to scour the sight of her from his mind. The contents of his brain were just useless gatherings of the abyss and Valerie. 

So it was no question, really, that the withdrawal from her had decisively been one of the worst periods of his life; his already considerably miserable patchwork of memories notwithstanding.

He wanted to bottle up the way it felt to have her in his arms and get trashed on it.

Axl pushed a piece of her hair from her face, swiping his thumb along the thickness of her bottom lip. It was missing its customary red tonight. 

God, she was so beautiful it physically  _ pained _ him. He ached in sheer awe. 

He blocked it out by kissing up the column of her throat, scraping his teeth against the thin flesh. If he focused hard enough, he could feel the pulse of her carotid against his mouth. 

Valerie snaked her hand up underneath his shirt. Laying her hand on the flat of his stomach, her fingertips were like ice. An untameable shiver raced down his spinal cord. His legs felt numb. 

“You don’t waste time.” He stated, his voice muffled against her jaw. 

Pulling back, she frowned. “Am I going too fast?” 

Axl titled his head up slightly, leaning against the headrest. “No. I like it.” 

“It’s just— _ time _ .” Valerie explained, pausing to kiss him again. “We’ve wasted so much of it already.” 

Her tone was soft and the look in her eyes was wistful.

“True.” He mused, then grew apologetic. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, you’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for. Just kiss me.” 

He laughed, pleased when another smile unfolded on her face. “Stop talking and I will.” 

Leaning in, he reached for the hem of Valerie’s t-shirt and pulled it over her head in one swift motion. Her bra was lacy and red, striking against the ivory shade of her skin. The cross necklace sat flat against the straight slope of her sternum, between the valley of her breasts. The diamonds blurred in a twinkling mosaic. 

Axl wrapped one hand around the small of her back and the other around one side of her ribcage. He shifted slowly, lowering her gently onto the leather seats of the cab and raising himself to his knees. Spilling over the cushioned sides, her hair fell away from her face. 

He returned his devotion to her neck and pushed her chin up with his nose. 

Axl believed Valerie to be artfully sculpted. He found beauty in every individual peak and canyon of her body, exploring the sights with more care than he paid to anything else. She felt fragile within his hands and the view of her body beneath his was rapturous. She was something to be held dearly; treasured. 

And she somehow managed to make him feel so  _ whole _ —so much like a man—despite the fact that they were about to fuck in her car like a pair of unruly teenagers. 

Axl sat up from her to remove his own shirt, peeling the fabric away from himself and throwing it aimlessly to the ground. The cool metal cross of his own necklace lifted then knocked against his chest. He watched her hand trapse its way up the surface of his skin, loosely fiddling with the piece before wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him back down to her lips. 

Her mouth was warm against his and tasted like a sticky-sweet cherry chapstick. Valerie bit down on his bottom lip, drawing it between her teeth. 

For somebody of such an angelic magnitude, she loved sinfully. 

He grasped wildly for the clasp of her jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them down her thighs. Her underwear matched her bra, the garnet lace stretching over the swell of her hips. Axl decided on the spot that it was his favorite color to see her in. 

For a split-second he wondered if Valerie had some sort of intuition for that sort of thing. Was her entire plan to get him out here like this? 

He felt himself grow wretchedly hard at the thought.  _ Fuck _ . 

Eventually, Axl did away with her shoes, palming the white sneakers and tossing them sideways. After a brief struggle, her jeans followed, landing in a ball next to their discarded shirts. Running his hands down the smooth expanse of her calves, he used one hand to hitch one over his hip and the other to dip below the band of her underwear. 

She was wet, obscenely so. Unmitigated pleasure dripped down his spine at the realization. When she widened her legs to accommodate him, Axl slid his fingers inside of her. 

He brought his mouth to the shell of her ear, his chain dragging across her chest. “You get this way just for me?” 

Valerie moaned something vague, her response inaudible.

He raised his head to meet her gaze and halted his movements. “What was that, sweetheart?”

“I said,” She smirked roguishly as her glacial eyes fluttered open. “It’s  _ all _ for you.” 

All the blood in his body rushed directly to his dick. Fucking  _ devil _ woman. 

Then she threw her head back and exposed the taut tendons of her neck. The sharpness of her pale jaw cut through the darkness like a blade. Running his tongue over it, he conjured up the false taste of blood in his mouth. 

His hand continued, straining against the fabric of her underwear. When his thumb slid against her clit, a soft whine exerted itself from her chest. He pressed against it harder, running the digit in a circular motion. The sound of her elevated breathing served as encouragement and he curled his fingers inside her. 

For some reason, he prioritized her pleasure over his and it was for reasons exactly like this. The sight of her coming undone in his grip was one the most mesmerizing things he had ever seen. He loved to hear her heart race, to see her facial features scrunch up in pure ecstasy, to feel her body tighten around his hand.

Because, if he could do nothing else, at least he could make her feel good. Axl was determined to be the only one that could ever raise her to such highs and pull her down through such powerful crashes. He wanted to be the only one that would know her like this.

And he didn’t care if that sounded possessive. Valerie was all he wanted, and now that he had her, he’d stop at no lengths to keep her.

Her heel dug into his lower back, her calf tightening around his hip. Her chest rose and fell erratically, lifting off the seats when her shoulder blades dug together. Axl could feel her clamping down around his fingers, the end was nearing rapidly. He sped up his motions and increased the rigor of his thumb’s stimulation. 

Val came to the sound of Zeppelin pouring through the speakers. Her head hit against the side door as she unfolded, the girlish giggle that ripped through her chest drowned out by the powerful release that claimed her lungs and drew her to him. 

Axl sat back, transfixed.

To think that he was the one responsible for the absolute exhilaration that wove its way through each and every one of her veins was absolutely transcendental. He felt his stability chip away at the thought. 

She made him so hard it hurt. 

As soon as possible, he needed to ditch the jeans. 

He still held one leg in his hand as she came down. The limb was riddled with miniscule aftershocks that jolted throughout her entire body. Her face was blank and serene; completely at peace. A brilliant rosy blush had broken out over the surface of her skin. 

She looked like a goddamn painting. 

“How—how,” Valerie exhaled softly, stuttering. “How the fuck—”. She sat up as she spoke, pushing herself up against the window. 

“Hold the applause ‘til the end, will you? We’re not done.”

“Let a girl fuckin’ catch her breath first, damn.” Valerie placed her hand over her chest. The deep red lacquer that coated her nails matched her lingerie. 

“I didn’t even  _ do _ that much.” Axl contested, shifting off his knees and throwing his legs over the side of the seat. He nudged his shoes off and kicked them away. 

“ _ I know _ . I mean, you’re the first guy that—” She gestured wildly, cutting herself off. “Usually it’s not that easy.” 

“Backhanded compliment.” Axl pointed out, internally satisfied. 

She shrugged. “Always room for improvement.” 

“It’s been two days.” He reassured her. 

“I know.” She repeated. Though, her tone was coy this time. Expectant. 

Then, she leaned over and captured him in another kiss. It was blisteringly sweet and tender in comparison to the cut and dry lust that had fueled the past few minutes. Axl would have loved to simmer in it, yet the ache that was threatening to engulf his insides was too potent. 

Plus, now he had something to prove. 

He needed more of her than just her lips. She had to fill every facet of his being. That would only be achieved by carving himself into her side and crawling inside her. 

Valerie read his mind. Lowering her hand, she clutched the buckle of his belt and unfastened it. When the halves of leather fell away, she popped the button and ripped down his fly, moving back so he could remove the jeans. 

They fell down by his shoes, effectively forgotten. 

Axl leaned back against the seat, then patted his leg. “C’mere.” 

She was quick to fall back into her original position, throwing one leg on either side of him and taking his face into her hands. Her fingers moved upward to weave into the strands of his hair.

Valerie’s lips traveled everywhere, skating over his face and down his neck. The way she moved against him was positively untamed and barbaric. Her attention to every portion of Axl was devout and faultless. 

A quick movement of his hand had the snap of her bra undone, her breasts falling into his hands as the straps slipped down her shoulders. He released a low, guttural groan.

It would have been a lie to say that they weren’t one of the first things he had noticed about her—back when he had been fully content with the idea of a sole interaction between them consisting of a forgettable tryst behind Shirley’s. (It had been powered fully by an unholy fantasy and when she’d asked to take their order, everything had been flipped on its head. His focus had mostly stayed elsewhere since). 

Now, however, all bets were off. Axl didn’t think it was wrong to think her tits were fan _ fucking _ tastic. It was a simple observation, really. 

When he bent his head down to take them into his mouth, her hands squeezed against both sides of his head. He didn’t mind the pain, though. 

Val ground down harshly against his thigh, the lace digging into his skin was similar to the way in which her nails were creating craters in his scalp. She was so dangerously close to brushing up against him, so perilously close. Axl didn’t think he’d survive it if she did. 

But, then again, if he had to go another moment without her on him, he also wouldn’t last. 

Placing the hand against the firm muscle of her abdomen, he leveraged enough space to slip his boxers off, lifting her when he had to push them past his knees. 

“Wait—” Valerie paused. 

“Left front pocket.” Axl responded simply. 

She climbed off of him and grabbed his pants from the floor. He was partially relieved when she backed herself into the corner of the front seat. There wasn’t going to have been enough room in their previous position. 

Valerie rifled through the contents of the pocket for a few seconds before she pulled out the condom and tossed it to him. Axl caught it blindly. It was purely a mindless routine when he rolled it on and she removed her underwear. Sex with her was still so new and armed to the teeth in untapped potential and experiences, yet he found comfort in the way that it was still somehow natural, as if they were apart of the same body. 

As so many of those famed ancient lovers seemed to be.

Turning towards her, he hooked his hands beneath her knees and pulled her towards him. She fell onto her back, smiling up at him before he muffled it with a kiss. Axl alternated the placements of his lips, laying them softly on the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose, roughly on her cupid’s bow and jawline.

He couldn’t help but marvel at Valerie because every inch of her was so fucking intoxicating. She had such an unspeakable power over him, an influence that he was too weak to resist.

He fought to reclaim it. 

“You gonna be good for me, baby?” Axl asked roughly, his words scraping against the skin of her neck. 

Her silver eyes narrowed, positively smoldering. She raised a hand to curl around his jaw, brushing his cheekbone with unprecedented tenderness. “You gonna be good  _ to _ me?” 

He kissed her palm and chuckled dryly. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“Good.” 

Valerie let her arm fall, the limb coming to rest loosely over her head. Then, without hesitation, he inserted himself into her. 

_ Fuck. _

She felt so fucking  _ good _ that Axl was sure he’d died and gone to heaven. Or maybe hell. That was the only reasonable explanation for the way she immediately enveloped him in an ungodly heat; one that sent every one of his nerve endings into rapid combustion.

He coiled both of her legs around his hips, his knees burrowing into the cracked tan leather of the seats. Her ankles clasped together at the base of his spine, knocking against it every time he drove his hips further into her. 

Eventually, her hands found their groove. One latched over his left shoulder, the other grabbed onto the skin of his upper back beneath his right arm. The skin was no longer cold, a feat that could be attributed to that omnipresent flush that clung to every square inch of her body. It was only magnified by the honey-tinted glow of the overhead lighting. 

“Shit, Val.” Axl muttered between clenched teeth. She took his stamina and drained it of life. 

Maybe that was another reason he always favored securing her pleasure first. He would never be able to last otherwise. 

“Jesus— _ fuck. _ ” Her voice broke off as her head fell back. She couldn’t speak, so she merely nodded. It was enough for him to know that she was feeling every facet of what he was. 

Axl felt that familiar tightness coiling in the base of his stomach, it was a heavy pressure that reverberated throughout his body. He gripped one hand over the back of the seat, the other reaching down and cruelly clutching her chin. He felt the outline of her jaw cut against the flat of his palm, the skin of her face pinching between his fingers. 

She liked it rough, she’d told him so. It was always going to be a role that he was more than willing to fulfill. He needed the control just as much as she wanted to hand it over.

Did she even know how fucking perfect she was for him? 

He picked up the pace, thrusting in and out of her with reckless abandon. 

Her mouth fell open in ecstasy and her eyes squeezed shut. That wouldn’t do. He liked it when she was looking at him. He liked to watch the fire in her eyes dim and glaze over as she struggled to maintain his gaze. 

“Val.” Axl mumbled, exhaling to blow the hair from his face. She drove her heels harder into his lower back and released several uneven moans. 

The light blonde strands of her hair that fell over her forehead darkened with sweat. He looked up briefly. Every glass surface was coated in a thin layer of humidity. When he lifted his hand to the back cab window, it came away slick. The sight of his dragged fingerprints was animalistic and obscene. 

“Val,” He repeated again, gruffer. The swiftly approaching orgasm made it difficult to simply formulate words. Getting them past his lips was akin to physically stringing them together syllable by syllable.

The hand that wasn’t gripped on her face captured her waist, fitting snug. 

Still, she ignored his call. 

Struggling slightly, he bowed down and latched his lips onto her neck. The skin was hot, salty. Axl couldn’t wait to watch the violet bruises concentrate there; a picturesque tapestry in remembrance of their unconfined, absolute hunger from tonight. 

Then, he took his fingers and tipped her chin down forcefully. 

“ _ Valerie _ .” 

Her eyes fell open in surprise. The pits of her pupils blew outwards, absorbing the steely color of her irises. She bit down on her swollen lip and pierced the skin of his back with her nails. It hurt like a motherfucking bitch and he craved  _ more _ . 

“Please, just—” Valerie murmured. Her voice was breathy, an octave or two above its average pitch. “Fuck, Axl.  _ Please _ .”

“Keep them on me, baby.” Axl instructed. “I wanna see you come apart.” 

He needed to see it. He needed to watch the effect he had on her unfurl. Her eyelids flickered, but stayed open. 

Axl paused after a particular powerful push of his hips. “It’s all for me, isn’t it?” 

Valerie’s head bobbed in a staccato beat. “Everything.” 

“Say it.” He commanded. He grabbed her chin harder, his fingers digging into the skin. 

Her head lulled back. “I’m all for you.” 

His breathing grew laboured with unfiltered desire. Axl could tell that there was more she wanted to say but couldn’t. He smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

A single tear then leaked from the corner of her eye. With a heavy hand, Axl swiped his thumb across her skin and wiped it away. 

Fuck. 

She was absolutely fucking  _ wrecked _ . 

It was the goddamn hottest thing he’d ever seen. 

But then, before he could fully commit it to memory, his vision went white. An omnipotent release barreled into him at full-force. His toes curled and thighs shook. Against her, he stalled. 

He was so consumed by the sheer euphoria that was racing through his blood vessels that he lost feeling. Axl fell away from the truck, from the desert, from all solid reality. The only coherent thought that plagued his mind was Valerie. Or, moreover, how it had felt when she clamped down around him right before he lost control.

God, she drove him wild. 

When he drifted back to Earth and pulled out, the first sight he encountered was the hazey grin that was stitched into Val’s face. She looked to be at peak happiness. 

He bent over and ran his thumb across her bottom lip. Her mouth parted slightly and he felt the bed of her tongue slice the pad of the digit. Mini earthquakes jumped down his spine uncontrollably. 

“You were so fucking good.”

Valerie’s smile softened, her white teeth flashing. “You were alright.”

Her voice was rough and broken. It was nearly identical the way it sounded when he’d fucked her throat on Sunday. 

He chuckled, too exhausted to muster up any sort of witty remark. “Fuck off. That up to standard?”

“Gettin’ there.” She replied facetiously, shrugging sluggishly. 

Axl tossed her a sly smirk and glanced down at his watch. “Give me a minute or two and I could be down for round two.” 

Sitting up and pulling down the visor mirror, she examined the mess he had made of her. Her face was pink and her cheeks puffy. The thick locks of her hair were matted with sweat and tousled indecipherably. Dotting her neck were stark indigo blossoms. 

Her eyes widened. “ _ Uh _ ,”

It was Valerie, in pieces.

“That’s what I thought.” Axl confirmed. 

Yet, he knew he undoubtedly preferred her that way.

* * *

Axl twisted the notch of the lighter and raised it to the tip of the cigarette. The paper unfolded into a brilliant, glowing cherry; red-hot. 

He exhaled, a plume of smoke pushing past his lips and out the cracked open window. It had finally stopped raining just minutes before, the torrential downpour unabating throughout the entirety of the sex. 

Though, it had certainly set the tone. For an hour, they’d been able to cut out their own little slice of paradise. Because of that, he had no substantial complaints. 

Still, the fresh air was a nice change of pace, if a little brisk. Perhaps it was Axl’s fault that he was only dressed in jeans, but he hadn’t had the energy for the extra step that putting his shirt back on required. 

Valerie was sat up against his chest, contrastingly dressed only in her shirt. Her bare legs were pulled up and leaning against him. She had thrown her hair up, her head cradled in the crook of his neck. 

The hand that wasn’t half out the window to knock the ash was thrown around her thin shoulders and holding her close. There was fucking her and kissing her, and then there was just the privilege of being able to hold her. It was the most sacred of them all. 

Like a freight train ramming into him at full speed, he realized that this was the first time he had her like this. Sparing the lust and the gritty glamour, she was finally his to hold dear. 

She was his girl.  _ His Valerie _ . 

“You know,” She spoke up, clearing her throat. “I’ve never had this before.” 

The way her thoughts paralleled his words was enough to render him speechless. 

Axl fought to recover. “Sex?”

He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she rolled her eyes. 

“ _ This. _ ” Val gestured towards the fact that she was practically curled up into him. “I’ve never had intimacy like this.” 

He exhaled, furrowing his eyebrows. “No pillowtalk?” 

She sneered. “No.” 

“But you’ve had casual sex, yeah?”

Valerie nodded. “It was a real problem my first six months here.” 

He perked up at that. “No way.  _ You _ ?” 

“Oh yeah,” She confirmed. “Real problem in the sense that I’d sleep with anyone willing to drop more than ten bucks on drinks.” 

“Damn it,” Axl frowned. “So when you said room for improvement, you  _ really _ meant it.” 

Valerie chuckled. “I don’t remember any of those nights. Not one of ‘em.” 

It soothed him somewhat that her habit for blackout nights wasn't totally his doing. She must have just been getting her life on track when he and the boys came around that first night. 

_ Oh well _ . 

“Alright. No boyfriends?” He pressed a humorous kiss to her temple. “Am I the first?” 

He really hoped not. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Valerie scoffed. 

“Let’s hear it, then.” Axl commanded, bringing the cigarette to his lips. 

“I’ve had one and I broke up with him right after I left home. We dated for about four years.” She burrowed closer to him as she spoke. 

“Jesus Christ.” He swore. 

Highschool relationships almost never lasted that long. He sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to do it. 

But, then again, girls had been a complex thing all those years ago. He hadn’t tried as hard as he should’ve. They’d usually just catch a glimpse of the mugshot and, if they weren’t running for the hills, they flocked. Whatever came after wasn’t of much substance. 

“What was he like?” 

“You don’t have to ask. It’s a boring story.” 

He shrugged. “I wanna know. There’s so much about you that I don’t.” 

“That’s intentional.” Valerie joked. 

“C’mon.” Axl prodded, jostling her with a lift of his shoulder.

She sighed. “His name was Daniel— _ Danny _ . He was the captain of the football team, and he asked me out in junior year by filling my locker with sunflowers.” 

“They’re your favorite?” Axl asked. 

“No. Roses.”

He smiled. 

“So, captain of the football team, huh?” 

Valerie nodded. “It made sense. He was lead quarterback, I was head cheerleader. Some stories just write themselves, you know?”

His brain skidded to a halt. He was dating the fucking  _ head cheerleader _ ? 

Oh, how the mighty had fallen. 

He didn’t want to interrupt her, though, so just mumbled vaguely. 

“And, it was good, given everything. I was...happy.” Valerie explained. Absently, he squeezed her shoulder and lifted a corner of his mouth. 

“But, to answer your question, it wasn’t like that. Sex wasn’t romantic, or anything. It was—” She stuttered, looking away. 

“What?” He asked, voice lilting in concern.

“I don’t know.” Her face crumpled in concentration. “Mostly just a quick act of rebellion, I guess. We were both raised Catholic. My mother cared more than his parents ever did, though.”

There was a certain sense of softness to her voice, as if she was reflecting on bitter memories. 

Then, his brain lagged onto something. “Wait, am I sitting in the same spot where he—”

Pausing for a minute, she looked up at him. His face contorted in disgust. “Ugh!”

“Shut the fuck up, will you?” She retorted. “You wanna tell me how many girls you’ve fucked in this jacket alone?” 

She pointed to the black leather jacket that was laid over the seat next to her. 

He pursed his lips. He would very much  _ not  _ like to do that.

“So, no.” Valerie restated. “The intimacy wasn’t there. Maybe we were too young anyway.” 

“I get it.” Axl assured her, loosening up. “Why’d you break up?”

She went quiet again. It was at that moment that Axl remembered his lack of filter caused problems in certain situations. 

“Nevermind.” He rushed. “Forget I asked.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. The past’s the past, right? He cheated.” Valerie answered and pulled her knees up closer to her chest.

Axl flicked the cigarette stub out the window. “What a fucking  _ douche _ .” 

Valerie shrugged again. “Carolyn. She was nice, beautiful. Better for him than I could ever be.” 

“Don’t fuckin’ say that.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. 

“It’s the truth.” 

“You knew her?” Axl asked. It always hurt more that way. 

In his line of work, loyalty and faithfulness were seated permanently on the backburner. Yet he wasn’t emotionless. Not when it came to her, at least. 

“She was my best friend.” 

“Holy fuck, Val.” 

“No, it’s okay. There are plenty of things I hate him for, but with that...there aren’t any hard feelings. I’m over it.” Valerie promised him. “And actually, I still get Christmas cards. They had their first kid earlier this year, I think.” 

His eyes widened. There was simply too much to digest there. 

“If anything,” Valerie continued, unaffected. “I think my mother was more upset over it than I was. The break-up, I mean. I don’t even think she cared about the cheating.” 

Two conflicting emotions clashed in his chest. First, there was a simmering anger boiling over the literal translation of what she said. Then, there was a second, less distracting curiosity derived from the  _ implications _ of what she had said. She almost never mentioned her mother. Perhaps tonight he’d be able to pull on that thread. 

Axl reined in the impending rage. “She told you that?” 

No matter how he tried, however, he couldn’t keep it from fully leaking into his disposition.

“We haven’t talked since the night I left.” Valerie clarified. “But the aunt that I originally lived here with...my mother sent her a rather strongly worded letter. It was all about how Danny was supposed to be the one, the father of her grandchildren, that sort of bullshit.” 

He raised his eyebrows. 

“It was all very lovely, all very laced with the Catholic guilt she was always trying to shove down my throat.” 

“What’d your dad say?” If her household had been anything like his, it meant that there would have been  _ much _ . 

“That’s an excellent question.” Valerie acknowledged. “He fucked off to Maine nine years ago. Haven’t seen him since.” 

_ Fuck _ . 

“Okay, I’m done asking questions.” 

Valerie laughed then. “No, it’s not as bad as it sounds. My parents divorced when I was thirteen and he moved out to get away from her.”

_ But he left me _ . 

It was unspoken, but still present.

“D’you live in the trailer back then?”

She shook her head. “He sent child support for the first year. We were evicted two months after he stopped.” 

It was blow after blow; a bad memory followed by a somehow even worse memory.

“I’m sorry.” 

Axl’s childhood had been fucked, but forced eviction wasn’t one of the battles he had to face. Neither was parental separation. (Not in his truly conscious memory, at least). 

But, then again, he supposed that wasn’t something to be grateful for. Not really. God knows how much easier his life would have been if his mother had just picked up and left his father like Axl had begged her to so many times.

“It’s alright. The free handouts at school were cool, I guess.” Her words were a defense mechanism, plain and simple. “And it didn’t hinder me from winning Homecoming Queen twice, or Prom Queen my senior year. So I guess all’s fair.” 

“You know that’s not even remotely accurate.” Axl overrode. 

The ends were rarely worth the means his parents had taken to achieve them. 

Sure, he was free now, but at what cost? How much of himself had he lost to that small house in Lafayette? How much had been taken even before that? 

He extracted another cigarette from his pocket and sparked it, inhaling.

“No, but it keeps me mentally stable.” Valerie reasoned. “I don’t choose to dwell on the fact that she ruined my childhood. It’ll fuck me up, Axl.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I think you should be able to let yourself hurt.” He advised. As he spoke, she ran her hand up his chest and gripped the cross pendant of his necklace. She studied it, holding up the light. 

“The day I split my knee open, she drenched it in hydrogen peroxide and then prayed over it. She only took me to the hospital six days later when I passed out on the bathroom floor because it was green, infected, and I was running a fever of one hundred and three. I was eight.” 

A piece of his heart chipped off in his chest. When he knocked the ash off the cigarette, it fell away, mixing into the wet dirt of the desert. 

“Believe me,” Axl started. “I’m not saying you souldn’t fuckin’ resent the bitch. You should. You should fucking hate her. But—I don’t know—it’s not  _ okay _ . It’s not  _ fair _ .”

“And you think I’m not aware? The day I came home in my cheer uniform for the first time, she grabbed me by the ear, sat me down by the radio where the priest was always on, and told me that no daughter of hers would be allowed to walk around dressing like a whore. I was fifteen, Axl. I didn’t even have fucking tits yet.” 

He sighed in frustration. 

She sat up and let go of his necklace, lifting her head from his shoulder. The absence of her cheek ushered in a burst of cold air. 

“Don’t tell me how to deal with a parent that barely fucking loved me.” Valerie demanded, looking away. “Because you  _ don’t know _ what it was like. You don’t. You don’t have any idea what it’s like to have your own mother break your heart before any boy ever could.” 

Axl knew that she wasn’t actually angry with him. He realized that her upset was just horribly misplaced. However, she was also completely unaware that he  _ did _ know what it was like. 

All too well. 

“I sat down on the piano bench one Sunday morning,” Axl began, pinching the smoke between his middle finger and forefinger. “I sat down and started playing ‘Dancing Days’.”

Her shoulders straightened, her back arching. She still refused to meet his eye. 

“I’d been practicing the thing all damn week and I was just fuckin’ around, trying to show off. My father walked in and threw me from the bench.” 

Her head whipped around, her expression apprehensive. 

“Told me, yelling and spittin’, as he had my collar bunched in his fuckin’ fist—his face real close to mine—, that I was playin’ the devil’s music.” 

“Axl.”

“Rock music was wrong, you see. Immoral. As was practically everything else. He walked in on me once when I was sittin’ in the living room watching TV. There was a commercial on, for God knows what, and it had a woman dancin’ round in a bikini.” He broke off to exhale, tapping the cigarette on the edge of the window. 

“He grabbed me by the shoulder and punched me. Right here.” Axl pointed to his cheekbone, where he could still feel the ghost of a throbbing ache. It was the same one she had kissed so softly earlier. “The shiner was probably bigger than the goddamn pom pom you’d walk around with.” 

“And it was all because.” He dropped his voice to imitate his stepfather, “ _ Boy,  _ that damn television is full of sins and lustful women are the devil.’”

“Axl, I’m so—”

“A week where he didn’t have his hands on me was nonexistent. We were Pentecostal and it was church anywhere from three to eight times a week.”

He hadn’t yet made peace with it, because he never would. But at least he could mentally explore the concept now. 

And if Valerie wanted to love him, she’d need to know what she was loving. All the bitter, broken pieces.

“My mother didn’t do anything because he’d just beat her too. And my siblings. It was hell, Val, but I know what it was like.”

Tears had welled in her eyes and spilt over. He threw the less than half-finished cigarette out the window and opened his arms. She fell into them without hesitation, her breathing heavy. 

“I’m not telling you to forgive her. And I never will. Hell, you know I’ll be the first to kick my father face-first into the pit. But don’t pretend like nothing happened. She fucked you up and it wasn’t your fault.” He lowered his cheek onto the top of her head. If he could hold her here, safe forever, he would.

“It’s not fucking fair.” Valerie wept, finally breaking. “I was a good child.” 

Axl grimaced. “That never means anything to them. Parents—” 

He halted, thinking. 

“They get the idea that they’re always right and it don’t matter what you do.” He continued. “It doesn’t matter if your knee is split open or if its fifth grade picture day and you’ve gotta fuckin’ half-healed, bruised collarbone because your father found you with a goddamn  _ Reader’s Digest  _ in the bathroom. It doesn’t fucking matter to them, Val.” 

“I’m sorry. Axl, I’m so fucking sorry.” was all she said. He felt her eyelashes flutter against that same collarbone. Axl tried his damndest to ignore the sensation of the moisture on his skin. He was so tired of making her cry. 

“Baby, you of all people know that apologies don’t mean nothin’.” He pointed out. It was the same reason he only told the boys so much. He didn’t want their damn pity. 

Valerie shrugged weakly. “It’s different from somebody who understands.”

Marginally, he considered that to be true. Or maybe it was just the effect she had on him. 

“All that matters is that we got out.” Axl murmured. The customary alarms that would be sounding in his head over the fact that he had divulged too many armfuls of personal information were nowhere to be seen. She was safe. He would trust her to shoulder the burden of the secrets he could never share as a child. He would do the same for her. 

Val nodded, sniffling. 

“We’re free.” He emphasized. 

A lengthy beat of silence drifted over the room before Valerie spoke again.

“She’s the reason my room’s the way it is, you know.”

“I know.” Axl acknowledged. 

“I didn’t have anything for myself.” Valerie divulged. Her voice was quieter than it had ever been before, undoubtedly subdued. “My bedroom was a mattress in the corner of the trailer. My blankets, sheets,  _ everything _ —it was all picked out by her. And the clothes, the ones that didn’t come from the thrift store, were reserved for Mass. No exceptions.”

Valerie brought her hand back to his chest, he enveloped it within his. 

“I was the goddamn head cheerleader and I was wearing knee-length skirts and button-ups. It was so fucking humiliating, you don’t  _ understand _ . My girlfriends would bring clothes to school that I would change into.”

The hand of hers that wasn’t entwined in his was curled up against her chest protectively. 

“That’s what I resent the most, I think. The embarrassment. The shame.” Valerie added. “That’s why an entirely new closet was my first priority when I touched down here. Everything else—room decor, mostly—I couldn’t be bothered to put effort into because people wouldn’t be seeing that part of me. Not easily, at least. I stopped noticing, really, until Slash—.” 

He shifted uncomfortably. Axl was still  _ so _ angry over that. 

“Wait.” She rushed to clarify. “Don’t worry about that, though. Don’t think I don’t see the way that even Jill looks at it. Or that I don’t know that she probably said something to you all.” 

His silence was her confirmation. 

“Jill’s many things. Subtle isn’t one of ‘em.” She elucidated before continuing. “I know that the room’s concerning as hell, but I’m not insane. I was just lost for a while, and then I just didn’t care.” 

Axl didn’t say anything, unsure of how to piece together a string of words that wouldn’t make this situation more unbearable. 

Val paused, looking up at him. “Okay?”

For a brief moment, Axl forgot that she was explaining something for the purpose of his comprehension. “Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

“I bet you were still hot as fuck in those khaki skirts, though.” He added, trying to diffuse the tension. 

The entire conversation had snowballed into something much heavier than he’d anticipated. Never in a million years did he expect her to be carrying such pain, to be weighed down by such baggage. It broke Axl’s heart clean in two. 

Valerie laughed weakly, wiping at her eyes. “Of course you would say that.” 

Axl shrugged. “I think you’re beautiful always.” 

She lifted her hand up to grasp his jaw, smiling at him. “And I think you’re full of shit.” 

“About a lot of things, yeah.” He responded, closing the distance and kissing her softly, “But not this.” 

Tilting her head back so it fit into the slope of his arm, she pulled away from his lips. Her face was no longer rosy and the multitudes of tan freckles that covered her face were warm; her eyes were gentle. She truly was, in every sense of the word, the most beautiful woman had ever seen. 

“When you said that we were free,” Valerie started, placing his cross back into her hands. 

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t.” She replied. “Not until you.” 

Emotion squared itself away in Axl’s throat and he couldn’t speak. But he understood. 

Though he'd been fortunate to find his release in music, it wasn’t always enough. There were still days when he still felt as though too much of himself was cut out and left to rot years ago. He wasn’t a full person sometimes, too much of himself was missing; lost. 

They all took from him. His father, his stepfather, the men from the bus station, the police, every goddamn teacher he’d ever had. They all beat down, bruised, and broke his spirit in one way or another. 

It had taken Axl years to rebuild. But, even then, he still was made of sharp shards and cracked surfaces. He assumed he always would be, too. Because he didn’t have the necessary materials to construct a healthy, whole person. He was a rip-off of a man, a discount of a lover. 

Yet, she had somehow seen something in him, like Axl had seen in her. 

So he just nodded, unable to convey the magnanimity of his affection.

She lowered her head and placed her cheek against his shoulder. He was suddenly and overwhelmingly bombarded with the realization that he would do anything for her,  _ be  _ anything for her. 

He was her ticket out. 

The thought scared the fuck out of him, but he was powerless to move. So Axl just sat there, holding her; loving her. 


	15. sympathy for the devil.

_ Thursday, October 2nd, 1986. _

October arrived without hassle. The scattering of the leaves ushered a cool wave of contentment up Axl’s spine. Summer was dead and gone now, taking with it the restlessness that had consistently seeped into his skin. With autumn brought the promise of colder weather, unfurling hopes, and new beginnings.

Though, in retrospect, he was entirely sure that the last one could probably just be attributed to Valerie. 

He’d moved back in with the girls sometime last week, with minimal conflict. Like always, Jill’s stiff indifference never made anything thoroughly enjoyable, but even Axl couldn’t push away the satisfaction that arrived from being back. In some questionable, odd way he supposed that he had begun to view the apartment as somewhat of a home. 

(Or maybe he’d just gotten sick of Steven’s springy couch. One that certainly wasn’t made more appealing by the fact that he and Venus took every opportunity to fuck on it.)

Even so, he loved it here even more now. And it was solely because he got to trade the accustomed overly broken-in couch for Valerie’s bed. Every morning he got to stumble in and lay beside her. He got to hold her close when he slept. He got to find her still there when he awoke. 

Because, really, that’s where she always was. There. Axl woke to find Val curled into him, her forehead pressed into his bicep and her arm thrown over his side. She craved his constant contact and that was something he never had the strength to refuse. He gave himself over to her willingly. 

Truly, it was plain happenstance that he was only ever at peace when his limbs were tangled up with hers, the two of them lying wrapped in the ivory sheets; sometimes naked, sometimes not. 

Axl wasn’t sure if the word applied, but they had just begun to border on the brink of something inexplicably domestic. It wasn’t soft, though, nor was it particularly deep-rooted. Rather, tender and expanding, as if it were still finding its own footing. It was something that was relative to only the two of them, almost parallel to dead language that only he and Valerie had spent the time decoding. 

Or maybe, because it really  _ was _ so unspoken, it wasn’t a language at all. Maybe it was just a series of rituals that they had learned to perform in tandem. Hell, it certainly treated him better than any religion ever had. And, as it was, she was the only thing worth praying to; the only thing he’d crawl on his bloody knees for, confess his sins for. He didn’t think there was anything he wouldn’t do for her. 

The sentiment may have been dramatic, but it didn’t scour the inescapable truth from the words. It didn’t matter that there was still so much of her that Axl hadn’t yet uncovered. He didn’t care. It seemed as though he was tapping into a new reservoir of little factoids about her each day anyway. There was constantly something magnificent to be added to the ever growing space in his brain that was devoted specifically to Valerie. 

She consumed his thoughts like a wildfire, extinguishing any opposition. He no longer  _ wanted _ to fight the way he felt about her simply because he  _ couldn’t _ . She’d sucked away all the resistance left. He’d been drained dry. 

In this new side of Valerie that he’d been privileged enough to crack open, he found immense beauty. There was something so delicate, so utterly  _ rare _ in the way she lived. Her sheer allure was otherworldly. It was too sacred for him to carry alone, he thought. 

Sacredness. Axl believed that was the only feasible way to explain why there was something to be romanticized in everything she did. 

He didn’t have the hands to hold a being like Valerie. He was covered in dirt and absolutely packed to the brim with unrighteousness. His spirit wasn’t beautiful. There was no way that it could actually ever intermingle with hers. 

Axl was struck by the way the moonlight spilt into the gathering area when she danced to Pink Floyd, by the way the light pink silk of her slip fell over the arches and slopes of her body and bunched so gracefully in his hands, by the way she slipped her hand under his jaw and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before letting him go for the evening. 

This alarming weight of Val’s grace didn’t lessen when she dropped the charm. She was pretty when she brushed her wet hair over her shoulder, fresh from mid-evening showers. She was gorgeous when she drove down the highway one-handed and hummed along to Bob Dylan. She was undeniably dazzling when he had her pulled up against him late at night, his hands in her hair and his tongue in her mouth. 

With her by his side, it was as though there was always an angel flying overhead. 

It was painfully difficult not to glamourize every single thing Valerie did; a notion that Axl was disgruntled by. The breadth of her beauty was too much for him to bear.

And he knew it was because she was so well put together that she was too good for him. Still, he liked what she made of his pieces. He liked that she made him feel whole. Everything about her soul called out to him and drew him in. It had just taken him three months to make a home out of it. 

He knew he would stay here for as long as he could, until she dragged him out. 

Axl chuckled abruptly. 

Speaking of being forcefully removed, Axl returned his attention to the cigarette perched between his lips and lit it. He sat on that same evergreen couch, his legs thrown up onto the coffee table and his eyes pointed to the television. He hadn’t a single clue about what was playing—some football game that he was too lazy to keep up with, probably—other than the fact that it provided for some excellent background noise. 

Nothing had changed about the fact that smoking was not allowed in Jill’s apartment, but,  _ well _ , she wasn’t here. And that meant that Axl no longer had to pretend that he gave a flying fuck about any one of her rules. 

He exhaled and knocked the ash into an empty soda can. 

Then, he just sat there, the shades drawn, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. It felt good to be free of leather for once. Settling further into the cushions, he pushed away the excess pillows with his elbows then huffed. 

Jill had so much useless shit it overwhelmed him. Maybe Valerie had the right idea by stripping her bedroom bare. 

Taking a hearty swig of his lukewarm beer, it had barely resonated that this was the first time he was in their apartment by himself. Val had stepped out to make a trip to the liquor store after they had made plans to spend tomorrow’s Friday night together and Jill was at work. 

He glanced over at the clock on the far wall. Val had been gone for about ten minutes, and knowing her as he did, it’d be awhile until she was home. She could be quite indecisive, a fact that was never helped by throwing vodka into the mix. 

Although, the apprehension that had consistently flooded Axl’s veins at Val’s drinking had mostly abated in the recent weeks. Not only because she had been doing less of it, but also because the contrast in her behavior across different states of consciousness had blurred. There was no longer too much of a difference in the way she loved him, whether she was nearly passed out on the floor eight shots deep or halfway through her Wednesday night shift powered on nothing but pure espresso. 

She had told him that she had wanted him and, now, he was almost entirely convinced that she actually did. 

Of course, that never completely eased his fears. There was still a constant anxiety deep in the pit of his stomach whenever he watched her fly off the rails with Duff. Her tolerance was questionable. The way her behavior and mind became so skewed and unrecognizable while her body flourished concerned him. He’d barely seen her flinch when downing the most astringent of liquors and he’d never once seen her lose her stomach. Valerie always kept it down. 

Frowning, he exhaled. 

Where Axl assumed there usually would have been pride, there was a hollow ache. He could never erase the idea that he had somehow planted this seed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't absolve himself of the guilt that lurched in his throat when he considered the idea that she hadn’t always been like this. It was entirely possible he had corrupted her in all the wrong ways. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

Oh well. It was nothing new. 

The sudden sound of a key digging itself into the lock sent panic exploding around the edges of his skull. Hurriedly, he put out the cigarette on the lid of the can before throwing it inside, then waved his hand wildy overhead to rid the space of smoke. Axl desperately tried to piece together an excuse for Val, who must have made up her mind much quicker than he anticipated. 

_ Would she even care?  _

Of course she would. It would be for Jill’s benefit more than anything else, of course, but the point still stood. 

The door opened and Jill walked into the apartment. 

Fuck. 

Well, he might as well just start packing his things now. There was no way that he was surviving another night if he didn’t. 

“Hey,” Jill said, hanging her coat onto the rack before walking into the kitchen. 

“Hey.” 

He wasn’t sure if it was too late to take his feet off the coffee table. Perhaps it would look too conspicuous. He opted to ask about her day to deter attention. 

“Eh,” Jill hummed in return. “Not really in the mood to talk about it.” 

That didn’t mean anything good for Axl, so he just shrugged and looked away. A few more dragged out seconds and he’d most likely be in the clear. 

She placed her bag on the kitchen counter and grabbed an orange from the bowl. Before her thumb could dig into it, however, she glanced up and eyed him suspiciously. 

“What?” Axl asked, defensive almost immediately. 

“Were you smoking?” 

Internally, he flinched. Shit. 

“When?” 

“Now.” Jill rolled her eyes. “Just then—before I walked into the door.” 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Then why does it smell like you were?” 

He threw up his hands in mock confusion. “I’m pretty sure that’s one of the things that just follows me around.” 

Jill peeled up a lip in disgust. Placing the orange back into the bowl, she walked into the living room. Her stride was purposeful; determined. Axl pulled his legs from the table, sitting up. 

He was an expert liar, so he was comforted by the fact that there would be nothing on his face that would give it away. Any surrounding physical evidence, though... he hadn’t even thought to check. God, he really wasn’t in the mood to get into it with her today. He wasn’t ready to pop that utopic bubble that he and Val had spent so long constructing. 

“Why’s there a lighter out then? And this can’s got ash all over it.” She sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “Axl, I had  _ one _ rule.” 

He felt his excuses crumble like a poorly built house of cards. There was no use in feigning ignorance anymore. 

“Oh, fuck off. It was one cigarette. It’s not gonna kill the fuckin’ plants.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed as she stood over him. In her ears were another pair of uncoventional earrings, this time a dangling pair of ugly fucking fish. Everything about Jill disturbed him. She was weird and she cared too much about everything. She didn’t let him do anything either, not without a lecture. 

“It’s got nothing to do with the plants, it’s the fact that I asked one thing from you and you can’t even follow through with that. It’s not that hard.”

“Alright, save it, I get it.” Axl sneered. “It won’t happen again.” 

While the truth of that statement probably depended entirely on how long she’d hold this over his head, he’d say anything to remove her from his immediate presence. 

“You know, it’s not even really just that.” She began. He could tell she was gearing up for a tangent, one that he was wholly uninterested in hearing. “I walked in and your feet were up on the table.”

He blinked, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he pursed his lips. “Yes, that’s an accurate observation.” 

“Don’t get smart with me, Axl. You live like a slob! Your feet were up on the table, there are about three empty bottles laying around.” Jill turned her nose up. “There’s a goddamn burger wrapper on the rug and you’ve got your clothes thrown all over the place. It’s a mess in here.” 

She talked with her hands consistently, ending the demonstration with a final, dramatic gesture towards the single jacket that was resting over the back of a kitchen table chair.  _ Really? _

“Okay, and?” He retorted. “So what? I’ll pick the shit up when I’m done. It’s not a big fuckin’ deal.”

“Maybe it is to me. It’s not like this is anything new, anyway. You hardly remember to clean up after yourself in the bathroom, Val’s  _ always _ doing your dishes, and I can’t even remember the last time you’ve completed your share of the chores.” Jill ticked off, pointing to the choreboard that was tacked to the kitchen wall. “I’m not a maid. You’ve got to stop treating me like one.” 

Axl crossed his arms. “Oh, give me a break. I’ve been here five days, Jill.” 

“Yeah,” She scoffed, pushing her thick hair behind her ear. “Like you were any better before she kicked you out.” 

He narrowed his eyes, feeling his core tighten painfully. “Listen, just because you had a shitty day doesn’t mean you can take it out on me.” 

“Oh, but it does, doesn’t it? I mean, after all, rules and common courtesy don’t seem to matter to you.” Jill shot back. 

“Drop it about the cigarette, won’t you? I said I wouldn’t do it again.” barked Axl. 

“The fact that you did it in the first place, when you knew that was my only explicit rule, is precisely why I’m pissed.” 

He raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Uh, no, it actually sounds like you’ve got a few other things that you’re angry about. Pray tell, Jill, how else does my existence inconvenience you?” 

She paced, but never sat down. It was as though she gained strength from the fact that she had the advantage when she stood over him. “You’re awfully bold for someone who doesn’t actually live here. Just because she wants you here again, doesn’t mean I do.” 

_ Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious.  _ He hadn’t a clue! 

“But her wanting me here is the exact reason you won’t do shit.” He asserted. 

“Yeah? Wait ‘til I tell her about this, then. She understands that there are conditions to this.” She motioned around the whole apartment. “We’re not free room and board.” 

Axl’s face scrunched up. “Who said anything about free—”

“I did.” She articulated. There was a sharpness that was leaking itself into her tone. A poison. “You don’t fucking work and any money you  _ do _ get goes directly to whatever god awful things you and the boys get up to after shows. And I didn’t mind it at first, I assumed that you came to an agreement with Val, or whatever. But now? There’s rent to pay, every month. I’m not ignorant.” 

“And I pay it.”

“With what money, from what job?” Jill questioned hotly.

“I work over Tower Records, you know that.” Axl spit. 

All of the money he got from that went entirely to his portion of the rent. He didn’t do much, true, but he wouldn’t skimp out on them like that. That she was insinuating that Val covered his rent payments infuriated him deeply. 

In fact, he worked tonight. It was the one night a week that he wouldn’t be able to join Val at Shirley’s. 

“One day a week isn’t enough to cover anything.” Jill accused loftily. “I’m not gonna let you bleed her dry.” 

“You don’t know shit about anything.” Axl asserted, placing his foot back up on the table. 

It was rubbing salt in the wound, but he couldn’t care less. This meticulously placed apathy was the only way he could rein in the ire that was bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He had to, otherwise he’d explode. (And he was so afraid that Valerie wouldn’t understand if he did.) 

“I  _ understand _ that you’re a lazy, greedy pig who’s leeching off of her.” Jill parroted maliciously. 

He felt the wick fray. “I swear to fuckin’ God, you better shut the fuck up or I’ll—” 

Jill’s laugh was callous and derisive. “You’ll what? Lose your shit? Break another photo frame? You’re the one who dug yourself into this mess. It was one rule.  _ One rule _ .” 

“Keep my relationship with Val outta your fuckin’ mouth. It’s not your business.” 

She huffed. “Yeah, speaking of, where is she?” 

The pull back on her temper left him disjointed. It took his brain a moment to catch up and decipher her question. 

“What?”

“Where’s Val?” She repeated, enunciating the syllables mockingly.  _ Oh _ . 

“The corner store.” He replied flatly. 

Jill mirrored him and crossed her arms, deepening her frown. “Again?” 

“Yeah, again. Why the fuck do you care?”

“It’s—nevermind. I can’t expect you to understand.” Her tone was scraping; condescending. 

An angry sound lodged itself in Axl’s throat. “No, tell me.” 

“You’re gonna ruin her life.” She answered plainly. 

The words gutted Axl. He didn’t need Jill to tell him that. He knew it more intimately than anyone else. 

“Shut up.”

Jill turned away, her dark curls flying over her shoulder. She wandered back into the kitchen, planting herself behind the counter.

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it? You’re gonna bend her into the girl you need her to be until you get bored. Who cares if she gets fucked up in the process, right?” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Axl seethed. He had to combat every instinct that prepared him for a fight. He knew that Jill was weaponizing something unseen. She was trying to get under his skin. 

He wouldn’t let her succeed. 

“The way I see it, Axl, it goes like this,” She puckered her lips in contemplation. “She picks you up at a diner three months ago and you move in a month later, nothing substantial ensues. Then, one of your guys gets her high on a drug she’s never even thought about touching before. You sleep together, there’s a fight—I’ll spare the details, I’m  _ sure _ you’re aware of them—and it ends in chaos. You leave.” 

Jill picked the orange back up, tossing it between her two hands. 

“You don’t talk for weeks. She calls and apologizes, tells you that she loves you. You hang up.” Jill looked away. “I’ve never seen her cry like she did that night and it was because of you.  _ You. _ ”

She broke open the skin of the orange, peeling it back. “But, you know, whatever. You make up, things are great, and you’re back.” 

“Thanks.” Axl snapped. “Would you like me to narrate the day she and I had today, too? A little play by play?” 

Jill exhaled gruffly, but carried on undeterred. “You guys hate each other for weeks and now I come home to the sound of you fucking up against my bedroom wall. She’s so blindly in love with you that she doesn’t see what you’re doing, but I do.” 

_ Ugh _ . She was so self-righteous that it pained him. Her aura was high and mighty, her god complex thick. She was unbearable. 

(And, yeah, sure, they  _ had _ fucked against the wall a  _ few _ times. But it was never when Jill was home. They had a little more decency than that.)

“Oh yeah? What is it that I’m doing?” As he spoke, he stood. Gathering into his hands the bottles, wrapper, and can, he made a dramatic show of dropping the items to the trash can. 

“Using her, first of all.” Jill answered. “But the way you’re specifically going about it, it’s gonna hurt her.” 

“ _ Using _ her? Is that a fucking joke?” Axl ground out, incredulous. “Maybe if you stopped being a fucking controlling, manipulative bitch for two seconds, you’d be able to pick up on your own motherfuckin’ bullshit.” 

“ _ I’m _ the manipulative one? She doesn’t exist outside you anymore, Axl! What you’re doing is hurting her!” 

Beneath the rage was a stark reminder. Axl had thought as much at one point. He had thought that he, himself, and everything he represented was a danger to Valerie’s goodness. 

Yet, he thought back to that night on this very couch, when her hand had gripped his face as her eyes bore into his; when she had told him that she was the only one who decided what was bad for her. 

Still, even if he recognized this, the very concept of it was one that was still difficult for him. And, at times, he couldn’t help himself from reverting into that state of mind, the one where he believed that he was injecting toxic waste into her pristine, clear waters. 

But that constant struggle was one that would remain between the two of them. No matter what her intentions were, he didn’t need Jill getting involved. She didn’t understand the complexity of the situation. She wasn’t privy to how give-and-take they were emotionally. 

He turned to her. 

“Why don’t you let her make her own choices?” Axl heard the volume of his voice rising. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep a lid on his temper. “She doesn’t need another person dictating what she does with her life.” 

Jill’s eyebrows raised. “So she told you, then. About her mother.” 

His lip curled up. He didn’t like the way she made it seem like an exclusive upgrade. 

“Yeah. She did.”

“Well, you can start by jumping off your high horse there, you haven’t unlocked something rare. This wasn’t something she told you and only you. Before you came along, she wasn’t some broken girl blowin’ in the wind. She had me. She had  _ herself _ .” 

Again, he didn’t need Jill, of all people, telling him how strong Valerie was. Even before he had become aware of how fucked her childhood truly was, he’d known as much. It had been obvious from the beginning, from first glance. She wore the tenacity on her sleeve. 

“So, what, you’re jealous that you’re not the star of her show anymore? Sorry you can’t find anyone who deems you worthy of fucking, but that’s not my goddamn problem.” Axl fired back. 

Jill rolled her eyes. “You’re so immature. This isn’t a  _ me _ thing, Axl. It’s about Val. If she told you about her upbringing, then you should know. She’s had a rough go of it. Everyone that she’s held close has broken her heart.” 

She pointed at him, her eyes narrowing. “ _ You’ve _ broken her heart.” 

Axl looked away. His lungs shrivelled up painfully.

After a moment’s reflection, Jill continued. “So, no, I don’t want to control her. But I do want to keep her safe.” 

He sprung back.

“Safe from what?” He shouted. 

“You!” Jill screamed. “I want to keep her safe! And all signs point to the fact that you aren’t!” 

Axl was a risk, but he wasn’t a threat.

“Fuck you, you fuckin’ cunt.” He snarled, baring his teeth. He was absolutely livid. He was sick and tired of her psychoanalyzing him. He wasn’t a discarded doll to be played with. 

“Don’t you see?” Jill beseeched. “You’re bad for her! You’re a bad influence! I don’t care if you’re too ignorant to see it,  _ I’m not _ . She signed up for a fun time, and you’ve endangered and hurt her more times than I can count on one hand. All in under a few months. She’s not some whore you can screw over. She’s not one of your groupies!” 

“Let her make her own decisions!” 

“Just like you let her decide to snort the coke? Her judgement is clouded by you! And I know that you both figured things out and that everything that happened was the best case scenario, but what if it’s not one day? What if she gets mixed up in something she can’t come back from? It won’t matter if she’s the one who pulled the trigger, you gave her the gun.” 

Axl stepped forward loudly. The orange lay neglected on the counter, pulled apart but uneaten. 

“Everything that we do is up to her.” He explained with painstaking grace, balling his hands into fists. “I know, damn it, I  _ know _ that I’m a fucking mess. And why she wants me, I’m as fucking lost as you are. But, you know what? She does. She fuckin’ wants  _ me _ .” 

He pointed at his own chest, his finger digging roughly into his sternum. “That’s not your business and it never has been. You’re allowed to have a goddamn problem with me, but leave her out of it.” 

An abrupt hysteria dripped down his body. Axl couldn’t help but think that Valerie would return any moment. She surely couldn’t be much longer. Did he want to be caught red-handed? 

Jill’s eyes drifted shut. She took a second to exhale, her nostrils flaring. On her tan skin was a more pigmented blush than usual. 

“You want to know why I have such a problem with you, Axl?” Her voice was low and deadly. 

He exhaled in anger, throwing his hands up. “That’s the only fuckin’ reason I’ve been engaging with you for the past twenty minutes.” 

She smiled sarcastically. It didn’t reach her eyes. Biting his lip, he tapped his foot impatiently. 

“It’s not just because you’re a lazy piece of shit, and it’s not just because you only care about yourself. It’s not even because you’re a stuck-up cunt who just needs a warm body to fall asleep next to.” 

He felt his throat close down. Axl wasn’t sure if it was rage or an impending breakdown that had his body erupting in vibrations. Somehow, in less than twenty seconds, she had managed to hit him where it hurt. Jill went right for the jugular; she severed his Achilles’ heel right in two. 

His constant need to fill the void with women was different from the other men on the scene, though. Whereas their hypersexuality—their incessant need to bed every woman they crossed upon—derived from the need to prove that they were packed with masculinity, Axl needed them to block out the fact that he knew he  _ wasn’t _ . 

They were a distraction from the realization that, somewhere internal and absolutely vital, Axl was broken; missing several pieces. 

It had meant something to Axl that sleeping with Valerie didn’t drown out his insecurities. Rather, she replaced them. With her, he felt like a man. It meant nearly  _ everything _ . 

She wasn’t just a vessel. She never had been. Even when he’d been drunk enough to sleep with her without touching base, he’d known that. Valerie had always been different. 

_ Why couldn’t Jill see that?  _

“It’s because you destroy everything you touch.” Jill resumed. “It’s because it’s easier for you to live in your sad, broken little world if everyone is as fucked up as you are.” 

“ _ Stop _ —” Axl pleaded, his voice thick. 

He was already more than aware of the fact that he was a ticking time-bomb. He was fucked up and he fucked everything else up. But he wasn’t going to do that to her. She was going to be the one exception. Valerie was going to be the  _ good _ amongst the neverending bad. She was his hope, his perpetual salvation. 

Jill shook her head swiftly. “Every sense of stability you make is built to self-destruct. I won’t apologize for trying to save Val from the fallout.” 

And he didn’t know what to say, because he knew she wasn’t wrong. Jill was  _ not _ wrong for wanting to save Valerie from him. He was too weak to pull away now, but perhaps Jill had the strength to force them apart. There was still time before they were in too deep and everything became irreversible. Before Axl detonated and Valerie became collateral damage.

“I won’t.” She repeated. 

He felt something snap.  _ No _ .

“Enough!” He slammed his hand against the counter, the sound of it causing a full-body flinch to run through Jill. “That’s enough.”

Even if he knew she was right, he couldn’t let that show. The point still stood. He wouldn’t leave until Valerie wanted him to. Axl didn’t scare easily. He wasn’t going to be blown off course by a woman who had become too comfortable dangling such misinterpreted leverage over his head. 

He didn’t know much about what to do, but he was certain of one thing. The only source of life that was coursing through his veins at this very moment was pure hatred. 

He looked across the room at Jill, with her horribly mismatched patterned blue skirt and white top, her messy hair filled with starfish-shaped clips, and felt sheer loathing. And while it was by no means an unfamiliar feeling, he hadn’t felt it so potently in such a long time. Valerie had managed to find a way to wean him off of it. She had made him stronger. Better. 

“You’re weak, Axl.” She spat. “You’re a selfish fucking coward, and I swear to God, you hurt her and I’ll end your time on Earth.” 

“And you’re a fucking bitch. You’re a jealous, forgettable, insecure bitch who needs to learn to take your hands out of other people’s business. Just because you’re unable to cope with the fact that you  _ don’t _ have anybody doesn’t mean shit to me.” 

“Fuck you.” 

If he wasn’t so irate, he would’ve cracked a smile. It was a pyrrhic victory. 

“That’s what it is, isn’t it?” He shouted. “At the end of the fuckin’ day, you’re as alone as you think I am.” 

“No.” She was unable to raise her voice above a dull whisper. “It’s because, at the end of the day, what I fear most is waking up to find her dead on a motel floor.” 

He recoiled sharply, his hands becoming clammy against the surface of the countertop. 

“And, if you haven’t left her by then,” Jill pressed. “It’ll be your hands that bear the blood. Not mine, not hers, not anybody else’s. Yours.” 

If Axl didn’t escape now, he’d lose all sanity. The wires in his brain were fraying faster than could compute. He didn’t know if he posed a bigger danger to himself or to Jill. 

“You’re gonna rot in hell.” 

Jill shook her head. “I couldn't care less about what you think of me. If it weren’t for her, I would’ve gone my whole life without knowing you.” 

“Then I guess we both got fucked over.”

Without waiting for her response, he pulled his jacket from off the back of the chair and fled from the kitchen. He didn’t wait to stuff his arms into the sleeves before the door of the apartment had slammed behind him. 

His pulse was going haywire, his breathing labored. Every inch of his body was in absolute flames. A single lick of kerosine and he’d be done for. He’d explode into a kamikaze of blood, guts, and lawless violence. 

Axl would become the very threat that Jill so descriptively painted him to be. 

He wove his way through the hallway, crushing his fist against the elevator button. Axl didn’t have the proper control over his body to take the stairs, easily picturing himself falling down all ten flights. 

Maybe that was a better idea. He wanted something to hurt, and he couldn’t make it Jill. 

_ Every sense of stability you make is built to self-destruct.  _

The elevator opened, rerouting his focus. He fell in, pushing the lobby button so hard it almost stuck. He crashed roughly against the faux-wooden wall and it felt good to have the back support. Axl hadn’t noticed how tightly coiled his body had been. 

He found himself unable to unwind, however. Breathing became a difficult, manual task. He suddenly became overaware of the fact that the elevator he was boxed within wasn’t really all that spacious. 

He needed to escape or he thought he might die. Every square inch of Axl’s body was shaking. 

But before the terror could spread throughout his whole body, the doors parted. Except, it wasn’t on ground level. It was floor six. A man walked into the space, positioning himself on the opposite wall. He looked to be about Axl’s age and dressed normally, eyeing the enraged man curiously. 

Axl squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against the wall. 

“You alright, man?” He asked as the doors shut. 

“Fuck off.” Axl returned bitterly, without raising his head. 

He scoffed. “Damn, whatever.” 

Axl bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard. 

_ It’s because you destroy everything you touch. _

They hit the ground with a jolt and the doors opened slowly. Axl didn’t look back. He threw himself past the threshold and prayed that he’d make it out the front door before he fell to pieces.

It was fruitless. God had long since stopped listening.

* * *

Fuck. He couldn’t breathe. 

A cataclysmic mix of venom crept up his throat like bile, blocking the passage of air. It was acidic and constructed of pure rage. So much goddamn  _ hurt _ , too.

Oddly enough, Axl needed no space nor time to admit that he had been wrong about smoking in the apartment. He still didn’t care for Jill’s rules, not at all, but he had nevertheless been aware that he’d been breaking them. It had been a conscious  _ wrong _ choice. 

His hearing cut out. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so brash with brushing her off and minimizing her objections. 

Still, that hadn’t warranted a single thing she’d said to him. Not a fucking iota of it. 

He understood that she cared about Valerie. But he couldn’t seem to get past the realization that Jill was fucking blind to the fact that he did too. God, he knew more than anyone what it was like to prize her wellbeing over any other concept in the world. 

It wasn’t his fault that Jill didn’t see that. 

And while she may have been Val’s best friend, he was still her boyfriend. Even if Jill didn’t want to admit it, that title still held meaning. It still added up to the exchange of significance and sentiment between the two of them. There was no way she could deny them that. 

Axl couldn't care less if she loathed the very ground he walked on. Hell, he recognized that everything she had said back in the kitchen had been the unmitigated truth. Yet, the idea that she believed he was wicked enough to pull apart the strings of Valerie’s heart so cruelly like that...he could hardly even think about swallowing that pill. 

Stomping through the lobby, he flung himself out the exit. It was early enough in the evening that the sun was still perched in the sky; shining a hot, flaming orange color. The air was brisk, but he couldn’t convince himself to don his jacket. He was starting to lose feeling in his extremities, as it was. 

That’s always how it was when he got mad. It was a three step process. 

First, his throat closed up. Sharp, barbed wire wrapped itself around the soft flesh of his esophagus. It arrived in brief, sporadic intervals where his ability to speak would be robbed. His hands would start to do the talking, the fear would inject itself into the eyes of others. The world as he knew it would start to crumble.

Then, his mind went blank. That’s when he would do the most damage. It was when he would contaminate the scene with the sludge that formed in his brain. It was when the relationships were usually severed and the deals were broken. A natural end to Axl’s perverted cycle of human interaction. 

And, if he hadn’t found a way to calm down by then, that’s when he would lose feeling. His body would reject all attempts to grasp onto reality. It was the precise moment that he would spiral and lose control. It was when, for once, he would pose more of a threat to himself than he would to anyone else.

Usually, he was able to sense its encroaching presence; one that started in his brain and worked its way down to his toes. He was able to steer himself away from the power outage that would manifest in the center of his abdomen. He was able to avoid certain catastrophe. 

But he hadn’t been able to get away from her in time. 

If he hadn’t stayed for her final earth-splintering epiphany, perhaps he would have escaped with no more than a few blows to the ego. Instead, she had managed to shatter his pride and heart completely. All in one go. She had read him like a book and twisted him into the most villainous, reprehensible thing his nightmares could conjure: Valerie’s biggest liability.

He felt only minutes away from doom, but he had nowhere to go. Once again, he would simply have to hold himself tight and hope that the implosion would stay confined within his rapidly debilitating mind. 

He turned the street-corner and was greeted with something that sent a knife slicing through his stomach. There, walking straight towards him with a smile stitched onto her heavenly face, was Valerie. 

Excellent.

_ Now _ she shows up, when he was five seconds from an imminent mental breakdown. That was absolutely  _ just _ what he needed. 

He was so unprepared that it didn’t even register in his brain that Valerie had never actually seen him so unraveled. 

He wasn’t ready to scare her off yet.

“Axl! Look!” She waved, lifting her paper bag excitedly. “They had that blood orange thing Izzy was tellin’ us about!”

He said nothing and crossed into the street, neglecting to check for oncoming traffic. If God didn’t have him at this point, no one did. 

“Axl, hey!” He felt his sanity fray ever so slightly. Tucking his head down, his hair fell in front of his face. 

He couldn’t tell Valerie what happened. She wouldn’t understand. To her, Jill was the paragon of virtue. 

Yet, he felt her coming up behind him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The hurried slapping of her worn-down sneakers on the pavement was painstakingly audible. Stepping up onto the ledge of the adjacent sidewalk, he stalled slightly. 

“Axl, honey,” Her hand hooked over his shoulder. Her touch felt foreign. “What’s wrong?”

In his chest, his heart constricted painfully. On the off chance that Valerie  _ did _ believe him, it’d fuck things up between up between her and Jill. He’d already been called selfish today. He couldn’t let that materialize. He wouldn’t let her win. 

But he was so angry. So  _ fucking _ angry. 

“She’s a fuckin’ manipulative bitch, that’s what’s wrong!” He shouted, shaking her hand off roughly and not bothering to turn to her. 

“Jill?” Valerie questioned, knowing automatically who he was referring to. “I didn’t even know she was home.” 

“Yeah, well. She most definitely fucking was.” He retorted. The moment she had stepped foot into that doorway, he should have known his day was going to be sent to shit. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not gonna talk about it.” 

For the first time in his life, he would take the moral high-ground. If only for Valerie’s sake. 

Behind him, he could hear the crinkling of paper as she readjusted the bag in her arm. “Talk to me. What’d I miss?” 

“Val, go home.” His voice was gruff and strained. Everything about him was weak. 

“Did something happen? I couldn’t have been gone for more than a half hour.” The confusion was as tangible as her curiosity. 

“I’m not talking about it, go home.” Axl repeated and kept walking, he needed to shake her off his trail. If he caved in, he wouldn’t be able to control what he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

That was a lie. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to show face there again. The restraint he’d shown Jill was unprecedented. It’d only been so because he had been radically overwhelmed. So utterly fucking caught off guard. 

Valerie continued to follow him down the street, in the opposite direction of the apartment. “What the fuck happened?”

“Fuckin’ bullshit that I don’t wanna think about anymore,” Axl seethed. His vision was so coated in red that he could hardly see where he was going. “There’s nothing to fuckin’ say. Go home.” 

“No.” Valerie returned, pulling back and stopping in her tracks. 

Axl slid to a stop, turning on his heel and sighing. “Val,  _ please _ .” 

“What did she say to you?” 

He shook his head and turned around. There was no destination in mind, just an unshakeable will to hurdle himself straight to the moon with no oxygen tank. 

“Axl, I swear to God, you either talk to me or I go home to her.” Valerie demanded. 

“Go ahead, I don’t give a fuck! It won’t matter what I say to you, not when the crazy bitch will paint me to be the bad guy anyway.”

“It matters to me.” Valerie insisted, picking up her pace. She fell into step beside him. “Just tell me what happened. I won’t be angry, whatever it is.” 

Axl was amazed at her blind faith in his character. Even if he did tell her, villainizing Jill to the fullest extent of the word, he’d still come off as the asshole. At least sending her home would save his time and, most likely, quench the likelihood of the nervous panic he was dangerously close to infringing upon. 

“I can’t!” He shouted. 

“Why not?” 

There were so many reasons, the foremost of which being that he wanted to spare her from becoming the middle-man. He didn’t want to even begin contemplating the look of disappointment that would surely cloud her features when she found what had caused this mess; a clash between the two people she cared about most in the world. A clash over her. 

He bunched his hands into his hair. “Because I don’t know how!” 

“Then that’s okay,” Valerie responded in an even tone, pushing a chunk of her hair behind her ear. “But can you promise me that you can keep yourself safe right now?” 

Axl purposefully kept his eyes from hers. There was absolutely no way in hell that he could ensure such a useless feat as his personal security. Really, as soon as he was by his lonesome, he would work on a method to compromise the very concept. There had to be a way to alleviate the hurt and release it into the air. If he was forced to carry it any longer, he’d collapse. 

“Okay, then I’m not leaving.” She asserted. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I’m not gonna leave you here like this.” 

“Just leave me the fuck alone.” 

“Would you?” Valerie questioned, unaffected by his harsh words. “Would you leave me if it was that obvious that I was in pain?” 

_ I already did _ , he thought.

He’d already hung up on her after she’d bared her soul to him. He’d already abandoned her in the middle of her bedroom after a simple bout of miscommunication. It didn’t matter that he’d made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t ever do it again. Jill was right. Every aspect of his behavior indicated that, if they were to hit a rough patch, he’d leave her again. 

His own train of thought kicked in.

He didn’t  _ want _ to. He wanted to be good for her. For Valerie, he yearned to force himself to always find a reason to stay. 

Axl locked eyes with her. Her jubilant smile from before had been washed away, replaced by a somber look of concern. 

“You know I wouldn’t.” Axl replied. 

“ _ See? _ ” Valerie pointed out, raising her eyebrows. “Just let me be the one to help you, for once.” 

“There’s nothing you can do. I’m so—” He broke off, looking away. They stood paused on another street-corner. The temperature was beginning to drop and he felt goosebumps break out on his exposed arms. 

“What?” 

“I’m fuckin’ pissed! I’m pissed as hell and I’m so fuckin’ tired of her always going off on me.” Axl yelled angrily, before reining himself in abruptly. “No, nevermind. I’m not gonna—there’s  _ nothing _ to talk about.” 

Her face was disbelieving, but she didn’t press him for details. “And I said that was okay. You don’t have to let me in, but just let me be here for you.” 

It was becoming increasingly obvious that Valerie wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He huffed impatiently. The best he could do was get them out of the cold.

“Can we just...go somewhere else?”

She glanced down at her watch. “Yeah. That’s—that’s fine. What time does your shift start?” 

He had forgotten about it entirely. That, and the fact that she worked tonight too. Shit. 

“I’m not going.” Axl responded. He’d make up the rent another way. Worse came to worst and he’d weasel the funds out of one of the boys. 

“No?” Her eyebrows lurched. “Okay. Um, yeah, we can go somewhere else. Lead the way.” 

He nodded and turned leftwards towards the nearest motel. He needed a place to decompress. More than anything, his body craved the softness of Valerie’s mattress, but he knew that it was no longer an option. Axl would have to make due with whatever alternative he could piece together. 

“Wait.” She called suddenly. When he spun around, she was less than a few inches from his face. Slotting her hand beneath his jaw, she stood on her toes to press a kiss to the space between his eyes. “Whatever it is that’s got you feeling like you can’t talk to me, I’m sorry.” 

Tears burned at the back of his eyes, threatening to spill over. He had already exhibited so much weakness today that his self-esteem couldn’t handle another hit. He wouldn’t break down like this. Not in front of her. 

He wanted to tell her. He just couldn’t. 

Axl turned away. 

Except, this time, he grabbed her small hand and folded it within his before pulling her along. The squeeze of her palm against his brought feeling back to the limb. Slowly, but surely. 

With his free hand, he brought it up to his face to ensure his cheeks were dry. For now, they were, but if she cornered him like he knew she would when they touched down at the motel, it wouldn’t be long until the dam broke. 

They didn’t speak as he guided her down the street, dodging stumbling drunkards and teetering hookers. That was his half of society and yet, he felt out of place just existing on the Strip at this moment. He had never felt so alienated from his own life. 

Eventually, they reached the grimy motel, the vacancy sign glowing red. 

Axl looked down at Valerie, who was peering up at him with a strange regard. It was no wonder why. He had gone from being bound to explode to borderline shut down in the turn of a few seconds. There was no way he could expect her to keep up with him. But he sent her a small, tight smile nonetheless, feeling a warmth coat his insides when a dazzling grin spread across her face. 

“You wait here,” Valerie told him. “I’ll be back in a few.” 

“Val—” He wasn’t broken and he could still function. He wasn’t going to pull the head off of the front desk woman. Or, at least, he didn’t think he would. 

“It’s fine. You need to take a moment to calm down.” She reasoned, dragging him over to a bench. “Here, hold this.” 

She handed him the bag of alcohol. He took it into his arms before beginning to dig through his pocket. Withdrawing a twenty dollar bill, he handed it to her. “Here.” 

Valerie waved his offering away. “Don’t worry about it.” 

_ I’m not gonna let you bleed her dry.  _

Jill’s words circled overhead dangerously. Axl frowned. 

“Please.” He begged. 

She sighed and relented visibly. Readjusting the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she accepted the money. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back.” 

Like he had anywhere else to go. He was pathetic enough to depend on her for just about everything. Maybe he should have never moved back in. They had been doing okay before he had. 

Once again, Jill threw a wrench into it. 

As he watched her duck into the side office, he felt the anger return. 

Nearly every ounce of living with Valerie could have been considered paradise. Axl had been the happiest he’d been in, well,  _ ever _ . Jill must have detected that, and because she hated him—for whatever goddamn reasons she had—she had felt the need to tear that apart. 

The ire fermented in his bones like molten gold. Against the rickety wooden bench, his entire body shook. 

She had spoken so condescendingly, glaring down her nose at him. She made him feel so entirely  _ beneath _ her, for reasons that didn’t add up. If she claimed to treasure Valerie’s happiness and wellbeing as severely as she did, then the way she acted was over the line. Axl didn’t have to be humble. He knew that he made Valerie happy. 

If nothing nothing else, Jill should have fucking respected that. 

But no, she had decided to rip Axl to shreds without mercy. And for what? Because he’d gotten a little too ballsy by smoking in the apartment? He had already apologized. He’d done so before she’d lost her head.

She hadn’t stopped there, though. Jill had felt the need to flay him alive, peeling apart his insecurities one by one purely because she had read him well enough to find them. She called him weak, selfish, and worthless. She had accused him of using Valerie for sex and a warm bed. 

Worst of all, she was strangely convinced of the fact that Axl was somehow sending Valerie off to die; pumping her full of drugs and alcohol for no purpose other than to shift blame. 

He hadn’t even been able to formulate a proper response because he was so struck by the fact that she harbored so much loathing for him. It was true that he probably now felt levels that were comparable to hers, but before that, it had just been a mild irritation. A persistent dislike, at most. He never would have dreamed of attacking her so perilously like that. 

And as soon as she had dragged Valerie into the equation, there had no longer been a valid reason. Jill had meant what she said, and she had said it to be mean. 

Before he could spiral any further, however, Valerie emerged from the office. She held up a key and beckoned him towards her. 

Everything about her, down to her very aura, was an automatic comfort. She was dressed in jeans and a thick red knitted sweater, her hair tied in a knot atop her head. She was like a lighthouse guiding him home amongst the storms. It took all of his strength not to crawl towards her. 

When Axl reached her, she latched onto his hand. “Your room awaits, Mr. Rose.” 

Her tone was saccharine. It didn’t matter that it was probably forced. For him, she was trying. 

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. Taking the key from her, he unlocked the door swiftly. Valerie must have had a mysterious capability to dissolve his anxiety because, for a split second, he almost forgot why he was upset. 

Pushing further inwards, it was almost as if this was just another night. The sort where they checked into a motel purely because they wouldn’t be able to make it home.

But this wasn’t a normal night. Tonight, he’d been scraped gutless and reduced to his bare bones. 

He placed the liquor onto the desk and then kicked his boots off. He’d been wearing them when his feet were up on the table, a feat that had probably made everything easier for Jill. Roughly, he shoved them into the corner. 

The mattress was springy when Axl fell onto it. Immediately, he placed his head into his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. His body fucking  _ ached _ and, briefly, he wondered if Valerie would understand if he ignored her request to talk it through and just rolled over instead. He’d only been awake for a handful of hours, of course, but he didn’t think it would make too much of a difference. 

Enduring tiredness was a constant perk of being an insomniac, he supposed. 

“Now, what the hell did she say to you that’s got you all fucked up?” Valerie asked, successfully burying his aspirations. 

She had been slower in making her way into the room, taking her time to line up her sneakers next to his overturned boots and to lay his jacket neatly over the arm of the opposite chair. 

Lowering herself onto the bed next to him, a strong breath of her perfume filled his senses. It was similar to the way a sedative raced through his bloodstream. Axl shook his head at her persistence. 

“I don’t know.” He responded, running a hand over his mouth. 

That wasn’t true. What  _ hadn’t _ Jill said? 

Digging his nails into his palm, the sharp pain was the only thing that kept his emotions at bay. Axl wouldn’t break. He would get through this. If he couldn’t be the right man for her, the least he could do was keep every other sector of her life intact. 

Valerie exhaled. It was obvious that she didn’t believe him. 

He was such a constant fucking disappointment.

She readjusted. “Well, whatever it was, you know I’ll love you regardless.” 

And that was the precise problem. That was  _ exactly _ where he figured that Jill might have had a point. Axl was an endless, flashing warning sign. Valerie blew past it recklessly, each and every goddamn time. 

“I just don’t want to ruin you.” He started unsteadily. Like a scab ripped open, the words bled from him. 

The emotion returned to his throat, razor-sharp. Painstakingly, the oxygen suspended itself in his chest. He was so close to losing it entirely. Axl was desperately attempting to hold together the pieces of himself. It was in vain. He didn’t have the resources to keep them there. His hands were too harsh and heavy, solely serving to cause further damage. It was only a matter of mere seconds before he was done for. Game over. 

Valerie’s voice was soft. “You know you were the one that put me back together.” 

Lifting her arm, she placed a hand on the middle of his back and rubbed in gentle, smooth circles. It was enough to send the final blow to his glass house. He shattered. 

The sob arose from nowhere, racking his body like an unabridged hurricane. He choked, doubling over and clutching at himself. 

Furiously, his brain shouted that this would pass. If he made himself seem as small as possible, the destruction wouldn’t be as catastrophic. 

He’d find a way to escape from this. He always did. 

“Oh, honey.” Her voice sounded a million miles away. Distant. It was as though she wasn’t really here. 

Was this all another dream? Was he hallucinating her again, like he did the night he spent with Angie? 

Oh, God, he was going insane. 

Her arm around him was immediate. Moving up against his body, she held on tight and pressed a barely-there kiss to his cheekbone. Before he could grasp onto them, unfiltered words spewed from his lips. 

“She told me I’d break you.” Axl wept. His face crumpled up, but no tears fell from his eyes. It was just a dry, miserable sadness; a heat stroke following an endless drought. 

“She told me that I’d—that you’d—”

Now it must have been sheer panic that laced his tone because he truly could not breathe. His body stopped taking in oxygen. Stars exploded on the edges of his vision. 

“I’m not fucking right for you, Val. I’m so goddamn dangerous that you’re gonna get fuckin’ hurt or,” He broke off, heaving. “Shit, fucking  _ killed _ . I can’t—Jill’s right. She’s so fucking right.” 

“Axl,” 

“I’ve pushed you to make so many bad decisions already. That they haven’t backfired on us is a fuckin’ miracle but it’s not always gonna  _ be _ like that—” 

“Axl.” Valerie repeated, squeezing a hand around his shoulder. 

“I can’t do it, Val.” He croaked exasperatedly. “I can’t fucking let this happen to you.” 

“Axl!” She shouted, harshly.  _ Loudly _ . “Listen to me!” 

He stopped talking and looked up. His vision was blurry, the silhouette of her figure smeared by tears. Her face was stern, but saddened. He hated the pain he found in her eyes. 

“What did she say to you?” 

With the base of his palms, he wiped at his eyes. Axl inhaled roughly and pushed his hair from his face. 

“She was pissed because she got home and I was smokin’,” He replied, dodging eye contact. 

“Inside?” Valerie questioned lightly. 

He bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah.” 

“Axl,” She sighed. 

It was just shallow disapproval, but for some reason, it burned like hell.

“I’m sorry.” 

“No,  _ I _ don’t care, it’s just—” Her hand on his back resumed in their movements. “Keep going.”

He cleared his throat. “And then, you know, we got into it a little bit. Just fuckin’ bickering or whatever.” 

His toes curled up against the patterned carpet. Anxiety flickered like a butterfly in his chest. 

“Then, I don’t know, I must’ve taken it too far because she just went off the fucking rails. Started yellin’ about rent and how I apparently  _ don’t _ fucking pay it. About how I’m bleeding you dry, using you.” 

Valerie released a strangled, frustrated sound. “You know that’s not fucking true. Axl,  _ I _ know it’s not true.”

... _ Did he? _

“No, I know, it’s just…” The emotion in his throat was overwhelming.

He hadn’t wanted to tell her any of this. Yet, the thought of holding it down any longer was nearly suffocating. 

“She said I wasn’t safe. That, just by being near you, I’m hurting you. She thinks—” 

He cut himself off as hot tears spilled over, burning tracks down his cheeks. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth. His lungs were like anvils in his chest. 

“Honey,” Valerie soothed. The anchor of her touch around him was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. 

“She thinks I’m gonna kill you,” He whispered, his voice breaking as the sobs overtook him. His body contorted under the influence of an invisible pain. “She thinks that what we’re doing—what we  _ do _ —is gonna kill you. I can’t be responsible for it. She’s right, Valerie. She’s right.” 

“She’s not.” 

“When she said I destroy everything I touch, it’s true.” Axl looked away. “I don’t want to wait around until it’s you.” 

Because there was no fucking way he’d survive that fallout. 

Valerie shook her head. “No.  _ No _ . If anything happens to me it’ll be because of the dumb shit  _ I _ get myself into. We’ve been over this. What changed?” 

“Everything.” A fresh wave of tears fell and he let them. “Fuck, she said it was gonna be me. I’m gonna be the one who—” 

“You won’t.” Valerie assured him.

“I don’t  _ want _ to.” He replied. 

He sounded so fucking broken. 

Valerie wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and brought her forehead to his. “I know you. I trust you. You won’t let anything happen to me. You’ve got me.” 

“I cause so much fucking destruction.” Axl murmured. 

He felt overheated and her skin was cool against his. He just wanted to collapse and cease to breathe. 

Valerie swiped away at his tears. The fingers on his cheeks held healing touches.

“That’s not true.” She contested. “You’re a good man, Axl. You’re a good man whose been dealt a shitty fucking hand. What you’ve done with your life, you’ve made the best of it. And, God, I want to be a part of it. Just like I want you to be a part of mine.” 

His eyes squeezed shut. “But—”

“I don’t know everything that happened,” She quieted him. “But I can tell you that she took it too far. She had no right to accuse you of any of that bullshit—to speak to you like that, really. She was wrong for that.”

He wanted so badly to believe her.

She seemed to sense this. 

“Please know that.” 

“Val,” 

“Axl, I’m serious, you mean the fuckin’ world to me. You’re everything.”

He exhaled shakily, his body shuddering. His heart was heavy in his chest, weighed down by the sheer admiration he held for her. He’d said it to Jill, but the point still stood; why she loved him, he would never know. To him, it was entirely unfathomable.

“Jill’s afraid and she’s trying to protect me, but she doesn’t understand.” 

Axl didn’t think this was something as simple as a misunderstanding. Jill thought he was deliberately out to hurt Valerie. He didn’t think there was any way to reconcile that. Not when he knew, deep down, that she was probably right. 

“People like her,” Valerie commented, brushing his hair back with her soft touch, “They’ll never understand. And that’s okay. Baby, it’s  _ okay _ . But it didn’t give her an excuse to hurt you like that.”

Axl shrugged loosely. The battle was too far uphill and his legs had run out of strength.

“I’m tired,” was all he managed to say. 

The tears had dried up by then, leaving him with a cool, hollow ache all throughout. It wasn’t even an exaggeration anymore, he was spent of all energy; beyond exhausted.

Valerie pulled away from him, nodding. “You sleep. I have to make a call.” 

As she made to stand up, Axl grabbed her wrist. Terror spiked in his heart. 

“Don’t call Jill. Don’t tell her any of this.” He pleaded. 

In under a split-second her expression went from apprehensive to sympathetic. 

“I’m not.” She promised, then sent him a meaningful look. “I won’t.” 

Soothed, he loosened his grip on her. She reached the bedside table and punched the keypad on the body, bringing the phone up to her ear. 

After a beat, she spoke. “Hey, Ed. It’s Valerie.” 

His eyes widened, but before he could react, she sent him a warning glare. 

“Yeah,” she coughed. “I know it’s last minute but I think I’ve caught the bug that’s been going ‘round. I don’t think I’ll be able to come in tonight.”

She paused, tapping her foot. “Yeah, the one that Brittany had last week.” 

An appropriately timed cough and sniffle ensued. “I know Eliza’s been looking for extra cash, though. She could probably cover.”

Axl couldn’t hear more than a muffled hodge-podge of murmurs from the receiver. But, by the way Valerie pumped the air victoriously, he assumed that it must have been good news. 

“Great, that’s great. And I’m—” She coughed extensively, breaking off to blow her nose. “I’m really sorry about the short notice. I’ll be over it by tomorrow, but I didn’t want to risk spreadin’ it to anyone else. If you want, I can even pick up an extra shift or two. I’ll even work tomorrow night if you need me to.” 

Feeling the fight leave him, Axl pulled off his sweatshirt and turned back the floral comforter. He didn’t know if it was the pounding headache or persistent tightness in his gut that made the bed look more comfortable than anything he had ever seen. 

“Okay, sounds good. Thanks, Ed. I appreciate it.” Valerie sniffled. Then, she hung up the phone gracelessly, groaning. “Ugh, he’s such a fucking slimeball.” 

Axl chuckled gingerly. “So I’ve said.” 

She shrugged and kicked away his shirt, unbuttoning her jeans. “Yeah, well, whatever.” 

_ It’s worth it _ . 

It wasn’t there, but he heard it.

“Hey,” she called in a voice ripe with affection. Clumsily, she shimmied from her jeans. “So you're doing alright?” 

“I don’t know.” He responded earnestly. 

She placed her knee on the bed, her features softening. “You gotta give me more than that.” 

“I guess it just surprised me, that’s all.” Axl conceded and sighed, shifting to pull the blankets back for her. “I mean, I know we’ve never gotten along, but that...this was different.” 

He knew hatred when he saw it, and it had reflected in her eyes almost as clearly as it did when he looked in a mirror. 

“Yeah, that shocked me too.” She acknowledged, climbing in beside him. “I’ve, uh, I’ve never known her to act like that.

Axl shrugged. “Eh, I don’t take that part personally, I have that effect on people.” 

“Not true.” Valerie laughed, pulling herself closer to him. 

Her body heat attracted him like a magnet to metal. Taking one of her legs into his hand, he pulled it up over his. In the dark, she found him immediately, wrapping one arm over his waist. 

“I think you’re the only exception.” He responded, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

She raised a hand up to his jaw and dragged his lips to meet hers. “One day you’ll realize just how wrong you are.” 

He laughed against her mouth. “It’ll be the only time I’ll let you prove me wrong, huh?” 

Valerie scoffed, pushing him away and lowering her head into the slope of his neck. “Sure.” 

Axl laughed, feeling it spread like warm honey. He yanked the blankets up and over her shoulder, smiling gently when she curled further into him. 

She made him feel so fucking serene. The way her touch and voice alone had talked him down from the ledge was something Axl didn’t think he’d ever be able to comprehend.

But, for now, he was at peace. He didn’t want to overthink it. He could finally rest. 

And nearly certain that the capability would be fleeting, he moved to take advantage of it. He settled his cheek on the crown of her head and let his eyes drift closed. They had been burning for far too long.

He was so content that he didn’t even think to consider the look that would form on Jill’s face when she found out that Valerie skipped a shift for the first time, entirely for him. 

_ Great. _


	16. temporary fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday, axl <3

_ Friday, October 3rd, 1986. _

Valerie slid out of bed the next morning before the sun had risen. 

Slipping into yesterday’s jeans, she pulled the blankets up to cover Axl. He laid curled away from her, away from the light that crept through the shingled blinds. 

In his sleep, he looked peaceful. The copper strands of his hair were thrown every which way, tangled beyond comprehension. There was no crease between his brows, nor a deep-set frown etched above his chin. 

It was as though Jill had not just ripped his heart from his chest and into pieces. 

Valerie sighed and faced the mirror. 

Gliding her fingers through her own knotted hair, she decided almost immediately that smeared make-up and wrinkled clothing were inevitable. There was no way she’d leave looking presentable, not when the only thing she had brought was a bag full of alcohol. One that, much to her chagrin, had been left to warm overnight on the bedside table. 

She didn’t even bother with it. 

Grabbing a pad of paper from the desk drawer and a pen from the cup, she scribbled a note. In a sleep-riddled, messy handwriting, it read: 

_ Ax, _

_ Left for breakfast, couldn’t wait. I’ll bring you something back.  _

Finding no need, she didn’t sign it. 

Valerie placed the paper atop his newly folded clothes, which she left on her pillow. She was almost entirely sure that she’d be back before he awoke, so it was just an extra precaution, yet she had a feeling deep in her gut that Axl would appreciate the extra consideration. 

And, after last night, it was the least she could do. 

Silently, she dipped her feet into her sneakers and tied them. She then grabbed her purse and his leather jacket from the back of the chair and reached out to turn the door handle down. Squeezing past the small opening she had created, she was greeted with a sliver of amber sunlight. The air was brisk. 

Mornings were cold enough now that she slipped into the coat without complaint. She swam in it, the fabric swallowing her whole and slipping off her shoulders. It smelt intensely of tobacco and mint _.  _

A brief smile manifested on her face. Approaching the public in clothes she had slept in was an unfavorable enough task, but this small gesture did wonders to soothe her mind. 

Still, even if she did take a back way, Valerie still rapidly tried to calculate the route that would have her encountering the least amount of people. 

Because she wasn’t going to get breakfast. Not even close. She had lied to Axl about that. 

In reality, there was only one place her body was dead set on reaching. 

Jill’s apartment.

Well, okay, maybe what she had told him wasn’t a  _ total _ lie. Depending on how long this conversation with Jill took, she definitely had plans to bring something back for him. 

And she didn’t expect it to be too time-exerting, because—simply put—Valerie was furious. She didn’t think she’d have the mental fortitude for anything too descriptive. She was absolutely chock full of pure anger and discomfort. Shock, too. 

Jill wasn’t the type of person to attack so furiously and to take no prisoners. Valerie had never even seen her angry. The factors didn’t compute in her head. Jill had always been the constant shoulder to cry on. She was the consistent voice of reason. Valerie would have never anticipated that she’d have such poison in her. It wasn’t right. 

But, instinctively, she knew that Axl wasn’t lying. She knew her boyfriend wasn’t innocent, not by any means. And she assumed, quite possibly, that a man like him never could be. Yet, based on the havoc that had been wreaked on his psyche, she just couldn’t deny that things had been taken too far. 

There had never  _ not _ been negative tension between them, but it seemed to have spilled over last night into something far worse and far more painful. Valerie wanted to wade through the water as carefully as possible, but she couldn’t push down the ire that crept upwards. It was taking over her brain and constricting her throat. 

Because, no matter how hard she tried, she also couldn’t erase the sight of Axl’s tear-stained cheeks from her vision. She couldn’t drown out the sound of the heavy, heaving sobs that had ripped through his body like a tornado. Plainly existing in her mind was a constant loop of his body’s sheer pain. 

That wasn’t supposed to be what she saw when she thought of him. The two concepts, Axl and sadness, clashed violently out of sheer uncorrelation. It sent a curious pang to her abdomen. 

She was suddenly, uncontrollably, enraged by Jill. 

It might not have been what she expected from her best friend but, then again, the people in LA rarely behaved the way she expected them to.  _ That was the whole fucking shtick, wasn’t it?  _

Turning the street corner, she jumped to the alleyway adjacent from Shirley’s, not wanting to risk the idea that Ed might see her frolicking about. The face of her watch told her that she’d still be on the clock right now, with a little under two hours left in her shift. And even if Valerie wasn’t actually sick, she was sure her physical appearance was enough to look the part. On every front, it would have been a sticky situation to explain. 

“ _ God _ ,” She swore audibly, pulling the jacket tighter around her and clenching her teeth. 

This had thrown everything so out of whack. In Jill’s attempt to determine what was best for Valerie, she had unintentionally caused indecipherable instability. A spiral of annoyance flared square in her chest. 

From the beginning, Valerie had known that Jill and Axl were never going to get along. She had acknowledged that plainly. Openly. But it seemed as though she had never truly accepted it—or perhaps gotten a little too comfortable in the assumption that they would have made the effort for her.

They had made it pretty far, though. All things considered. Jill had opened her home to him. He’d opened his mind to her. 

Still, compromises built on shaky ground were always doomed to fall. In less than an hour, the legs had been kicked from underneath this one. The board was sent flying, both had shown their hands. Jill had gotten the last word, one powerful enough to shake Axl down to his core. 

That was what scared her the most, she concluded. 

Valerie knew that he was practically a map of ripe pressure points, but she had always taken care to leave them be. Jill, ever so sharp and verbose, had stuck a pushpin into every single one simultaneously. He had cracked and deflated. For a moment, his true colors leaked. 

It was obvious that his exterior was just that. The internal torture that she had received sporadic glimpses of throughout their tribulations had been on full display last night. Axl was no rock god. Rather, just a man. One who was hurting, at that. 

And to think that Jill had been the one to do it...the knowledge burned like hellfire within. An overwhelming emotion sizzled her insides, engulfing them in flames. Valerie was experiencing something so unprecedented she could hardly label it. She was angry at Jill. 

Sometime amongst her mental tirade she had made it to the front door of the complex. She hadn’t encountered a single soul on the journey, a feat that she was more than grateful for. There must have been a feral, crazed look in her eye; an untamed bitterness blooming over her features. 

Axl had told her not to seek out Jill, but she didn’t see any other alternative. There was a deep-rooted need in the base of her chest to defend him; like he had so perilously attempted to do for her yesterday. 

It didn’t help that he didn’t have people in his corner. (An undeniable fact that she knew to be completely true, even if the weight of it crushed her lungs). People didn’t ever step up to bat for him. 

Valerie didn’t care what it took. She would be that person. 

She blew past the elevator doors and pounded on the ‘10’ button until it shone in an ugly off-white. It wouldn’t serve to change her course of action, but she was now cognizant of a strong anxiety stirring in her stomach. Val knew what she had to do, but it didn’t make things any fucking easier. 

When the elevator lurched, the unease was sent flying upwards. She felt bile rise in her throat. Shaking her head furiously, she forced herself to remain staunch in her footing. What she was doing was right. Jill had overstepped. 

Jill had been  _ wrong _ . 

The heavy doors disconnected and she was greeted with the sight of the ugly floral papering of the hallways. It was yellowed and stained with cigarette smoke; peeling in several places. 

Wrestling her key from her back pocket, she gathered her senses. She could do this.

_ She told me I’d break you _ . 

The sound of Axl’s angst-drenched tone, though never straying too far, returned. Valerie envisioned his face twisting in anguish, his voice breaking as he looked up at her through tear-soaked lashes. 

_ She thinks I’m gonna kill you _ . 

Rage exploded near her temples. Valerie was so fucking tired of the speculation and misplaced concern. Nobody ever just let her make her own goddamn choices. 

Unlocking the door, she pushed it open roughly. It creaked on its hinges, crashing against its stopper. Her eyes scanned the apartment wildly. 

There, standing in the corner of the kitchen, was Jill. Her eyes were wide in confusion, her hands busied with steeping a tea bag into a chipped mug. Her hair was tied back in a low ponytail and her body was wrapped in its customary pink silk robe. Given her disheveled appearance, she must have just woken up, too. It was much more common to find  _ her _ awake at this hour, after all. 

Stomping into the room, Val slammed her keys onto the counter. The sound alone sent a full-body flinch through Jill. Slowly, her lips moved to speak, but Valerie beat her to the punch. 

“You wanna fucking explain what happened last night?” 

Her words came out strong and clear. Though taken slightly aback, she drew power from it. She had never before raised her tone with Jill. 

The other girl gently placed her cup onto the counter. “What do you mean?” 

Valerie chuckled in surprise. “What do you mean, ‘ _ what do you mean _ ’? I wanna know  _ exactly _ why you thought it was fuckin’ okay to say any of that shit to him.” 

Jill sighed, her chest rising visibly. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Val, you don’t understand—” 

“No, I think I understand plenty.” She countered, folding her arms. 

“You don’t.” Jill asserted. “You weren’t here.” 

“Tellin’ him that he was dangerous? That he was a shitty boyfriend? Why? All because he was smoking a goddamn cigarette inside?” 

Jill frowned. “That’s not all that—” 

Val groaned dramatically. “I don’t give a flying fuck about the machanics of it, I wanna know why you thought it was okay to say  _ anything _ that you did.” 

“Well, if you’d let me explain then I could—” 

“You had no fucking right to say any of that.” Valerie barked, pointing her finger. “It was over the line, Jill. You went too fucking far.” 

“I didn’t—” 

“You did. You took things too far and you were—” 

“Will you just let me speak, goddamn it!” Jill shouted. 

Valerie leaned back quickly. The sharpness in Jill’s voice coaxed goosebumps to break out over the span of her arms. The words died in Val’s throat immediately. 

Jill stepped forward. “Over and over again, I watched him break you! For weeks, you were in constant pain and misery. And, yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have blown up at him, but I’m not sorry that I did.” 

The sentiment was there, but Valerie sped past it. 

“You’re not sorry?” She narrowed her eyes. 

Jill shook her head. Her expression was defiant. 

“You’re not sorry that you told him he was a threat? That you accused him of using me for a quick fuck? That you said he would fucking  _ kill _ me?” Val asked, incredulous. “You stand by that?” 

It was a pure regurgitation of questions, but she couldn’t quench the flow. She supposed it was because she was still so flabbergasted—so utterly in disbelief—that Jill had been able to hurt him so acutely. So intentionally. 

“Yes.” Jill deadpanned, unblinking. 

The words hit like a punch to the gut. 

Jill’s harsh words had been premeditated. When she had opened up a fight with Axl, she had been out to damage him. She had been sitting on so much resentment that she hadn’t felt capable of being able to share with Valerie. 

For some reason, that hurt worse. 

“He brings out a side of you that makes bad choices.” Jill continued, her eyes wide with severity. 

“Oh, here we go.” She bit out, rolling her eyes. 

“Valerie, I’m serious.” 

_ Valerie _ . Not Val. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Jill use her full name like that. 

A low, guttural noise arose from her throat. “No, he doesn’t.” 

It was the same fight rehashed once again. She had begun to lose count of the amount of times she had to assert her own autonomy. Her life had been a nonstop grappling for control. Nobody understood how Axl’s mere presence by her side had been the greatest opportunity to reclaim it. 

Not even Axl himself. 

(Though there were definitely moments where she believed that he was catching on. Slowly, he was handing the reins over and letting her navigate things between them for herself.)

“I make my own decisions.” She affirmed tightly. The words were such second nature to her that they didn’t feel real. That they were having this argument in the first place pointed to the notion that she didn’t guide her choices as much as she would have liked to. 

“Oh, really? Because last time I checked you were  _ only _ doing coke around him.” Jill pointed out. 

For a split-second, she was rendered speechless, absolutely startled that Jill had weaponized such a thing. The implications of the sentence ricocheted around her skull like a bullet. Raw anger split into her veins. 

“Fuck you. You know how fucked up I was.” Valerie spat. 

She wasn’t even referencing the fact that she had been a shot away from blacked-out when she accepted the drugs. Moreso that she had been so desperate, so unable to satiate the physical cravings for him, that she had succumbed to the only thing that she believed would numb the desire. 

It hadn’t, of course. It had plunged her headfirst into one of the most catastrophic sequences of events in her life. 

But Jill had been there during the aftershocks. She was the one that had comforted her through the come-down, soothing her when she had crashed violently. 

Was it simply a performance to later use against her? To prove the idea that Axl wasn’t right for her?

_ No _ , Valerie overrode mentally. Jill had been angry last night, she’d hurdled disgusting things towards Axl, but it wasn’t who she was. She was a kind,  _ good _ person. This was a brief interlude to that absolute reality. It would pass. 

Like her mother always said,  _ this too shall pass.  _

“That’s my exact point.” Jill emphasized, laying her hand down on the counter. The tea adjacent to her fist must have been growing cold. “If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have done it.” 

“No. You weren’t there. He was the only one telling me not to.” 

Valerie thought back to sparse memories she’d had of that night at the club, then to the memories she had of Axl’s reaction the next morning. Her head shook itself on its own accord. 

“I didn’t listen,” She continued, “but that was  _ my _ fuckin’ choice. It’s got nothing to do with him.” 

Jill’s eyebrows raised. The surprise that took form there struck Valerie as incredibly ungenuine. 

When Val had been crying to her, the morning after she’d shoved him out of her room, she had repeated his words to Jill. She had mentioned Axl’s insistence that she wouldn’t have been able to handle the blow. This shouldn’t have been new information, even if it sure as hell was sensitive. The wounds it had ripped open may have closed but the bruises were still tender. 

“Just because you wouldn’t make the same choices I do doesn’t make them ‘bad decisions’.” Valerie added, running her hands through her hair. Annoyance had precipitously replaced itself with fury once more. “But what else would I expect from such a judgemental bitch.”

Jill’s mouth fell open. She scoffed. 

It was a low-blow and Valerie knew it, but she didn’t care. If Jill had the gall to subvert her weaknesses like that, she didn’t have to take the moral high ground. 

“Oh, we’re picking out flaws now, huh?” Jill challenged, her eyes flashing. 

A stone dropped into the center of Valerie’s stomach. That wasn’t what they were supposed to be doing. Not at all. 

Jill pulled her bathrobe tighter around her waist before crossing her arms over her chest. “Let’s start with the fact that you’re always too willing to run back to him, yeah? What’s it gonna take for you to realize how blindly naïve you’re being? How many times does he have to hurt you until you realize that he’s not as good a guy as you think he is, Val?” 

“How many times until you realize that it’s not your fucking call to make?” Valerie countered, bracing against the counter and leaning forward. Tangled strands of her hair fell into her face. She wondered if she looked as distraught as she felt. “I’m making the goddamn choices and I choose him.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Jill stated. Her lips then turned downward. “And you’re calling  _ me _ judgemental? Really? Not surprising from a person who can barely do enough critical thinking to get themselves through the day.” 

Jill stepped away from the counter, moving to stand before the sink. Valerie barely registered her words, too pissed off to feel the sting. She was still so fucking gobsmacked that Jill’s body posessed a mean bone. Unfairly, she felt cheated.

“You really think he’s not gonna end up hurting you when this all falls apart?” Jill questioned. “Men like him always do. They always do, Val.” 

Valerie was never a person who looked towards the future. Especially since she had moved westward, she had taken to living in the present. The thought that Jill was so convinced of their relationship’s demise—and that he would be the one who came out on top—simply didn’t sit right with her. 

This was all wrong. Jill was supposed to be her best friend; an endless source of hope, optimism, and support. She was supposed to comfort Val  _ if _ the relationship crumbled, not jump to predict  _ when _ it did. It seemed as though she was trying to present herself as the world’s greatest force of opposition. 

“He’s going to hurt you and I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t happen.” The dark-haired girl finished with firm persistence.

“I never asked for that!” Valerie blurted. “You’re my roommate, not my mother!” 

Her neck craned quickly. “Your roommate? That’s all I am?” 

Valerie hadn’t intended the fumble, but rolled with it nonetheless. Shrugging, she responded in a level tone, “You’re not acting like my friend right now.” 

Jill looked down, her head shaking ever so slightly. “Wow, alright. That’s—” 

A halfhearted explanation boiled over and Valerie cut her off. “You’ve got to get it out of your head that he’s gonna ruin me. You don’t know him like I do, and I fuckin’  _ get  _ that, but he’s still a goddamn person who’s trying his best. He’s not out to hurt me, Jill.” 

Jill clenched her jaw and looked away. “But that’s exactly what you’re not seeing. You’re blind to it.” 

“I’m not fucking blind to shit! You just don’t know how to comprehend the fact that not everyone wants what you want!” Valerie yelled bitingly, her tone raising. 

“You are!” Jill exclaimed, ignoring the entirety of her second point. “Everything up to this point has been a continuous cycle of hurt. He strung you along for weeks— _ months _ —only to leave you the first moment you hit a rough patch. I mean, come on, he hung up the goddamn phone when you told him how you felt. That’s what you want?” 

Valerie clutched the ceramic tile tightly, her palms sweating. “You know that I was drunk then.” 

“I do,” Jill acknowledged, then pointed out: “And that doesn’t help your case.”

“It does when you know that we’ve figured it out since then. We’re happy now. Why is that so hard for you to accept?” 

Her friend rolled her eyes. “That’s got absolutely nothing to do with anything. I’m happy that you’re happy.” 

_ Yeah, right. _ “Then why can’t you let us be?” 

“Look,” Jill sighed. Her face was flushed a brilliant rosy shade. “Axl’s said this to me himself. He told me yesterday that he knew he wasn’t good for you.” 

The rock in her stomach sunk further. Her heart shattered at the prospect of Axl’s insecurities materializing during his fight with Jill. He had only divulged them to Val after she had chipped away at him for weeks. He had been at his most vulnerable when he had spilt his fears. 

The truth had flowed from his lips on the couch like it was a confession booth. Like he was a damned, dirty sinner and she was the priest meant to take his unclean hands into hers and absolve them of guilt. He had acted as though loving her was his repentance; one that he was hesitant to take authority over.

Axl mourned over the unlabelled pain he had caused people, convinced down to his very bones that he would hurt her too. He had believed that the sole concept of her lips against his had sealed her a one-way ticket to damnation. 

(It didn’t matter that she had secured a seat on the fast-track years ago, before she had given up on God completely.) 

Jill was never supposed to see that. 

Somehow, amongst all of the confusion, Axl had convinced himself that he was bad for her. The gradual process of unlearning that had taken weeks. 

And Valerie was so sure that she had made substantial progress. He didn’t fight her affection anymore, he welcomed it. He  _ returned _ it. 

She could only imagine how far the events of last night would set him back. 

Val had the patience to ride through it again, but she didn’t know if he’d convince himself to once more withstand it. Some small, fractional piece of her abhorred Jill for that. 

“He knows, I know,” Jill resumed. “You  _ don’t _ . You’re doing things that you would never dream of doing if it weren’t for him.”

Val threw her head back in exasperation. 

“And,” Jill acknowledged. “Even if he’s not the one forcing your hand, he’s enabling it. He knows that it lessens his accountability and, if anything, that’s so much more dangerous. I hate it, Val. I don’t like what he does to you.” 

Nobody had ever, quite fucking frankly, liked anything about her. 

Her mother hadn’t liked the way she dressed. Her father hadn’t liked the way parenthood had taken up so much responsibility. Danny hadn’t liked the way she’d been comfortable enough in her femininity to show it off. Anything that belonged to Valerie had always been ripe for judgement. It was nothing new.

So, really, she couldn't care less about how Jill felt about her. 

The criticism bounced off, falling into a sea of greater, more trivial worries she didn’t concern herself with. As she’d gotten older, she had learned to accept that it was a problem that no longer belonged to her. She didn’t have the stamina to take it to heart anymore. 

Besides, Axl liked her. And, much more importantly, she loved herself. 

That was enough for her. 

Valerie tapped her foot impatiently. “You ever think for a moment that I’m doing what makes  _ me _ happy? You and I don’t have the same definition of what we want. It’s not my fault you don’t fuckin’ accept that.” 

Jill pivoted to face her, her nose upturned. “I refuse to believe that your ideal meaning of happiness is snuffing blow in a dirty bathroom and fucking him in the back alleyway of a club. You’re right, I won’t accept it. That’s not you.” 

Valerie’s face contorted, unwilling to believe that she had reduced her life to such pathetic parameters. She wasn’t an airheaded slut that solely gained gratification from a dick down her throat. 

Valerie had dreams. She had fucking aspirations. 

She was so much more than the partying and the drinking. 

She was so much more than a spineless fucking whore. 

She was so much more than just Axl. 

“Well,” Valerie hissed. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you fucking think you do. Just like you don’t know shit about him.” 

Jill grimaced, her features lined in disbelief.

Once again, a montage of his bleeding state of desperation leaked to the forefront of Valerie’s mind. He had made her promise not to tell her, but she just couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough to live with the idea that Jill was unaware of the pain she was capable of causing. 

Perhaps she, just like Valerie, had gotten too comfortable with the fact that she was so easily dismissed as kind. 

“Do you have any clue about how badly you fucked him up?” She pressed, narrowing her eyes again. Bunching up the sleeves of her red sweater, she regained her grip on the edge of the counter. “Do you know what he said to me? What he fucking looked like after you tore him to shreds?” 

Jill rolled her eyes and Valerie grumbled in irritation before continuing. “You ever had anyone pick out your flaws and shove them back into your face?” 

“Yeah,” Jill’s face was stony, her voice monotone. “Sorry about that.” 

“Fuck you!” Fury exploded in the base of Valerie’s skull. She slammed her hand down against the counter, hard enough to send a loose orange tumbling off the surface. “You broke his heart, for God knows whatever reason, and you’re not even a little bit fucking remorseful!” 

“I’m not.” She confirmed, nodding. “He should have treated you better. Or, given that you don’t seem to care too much about what he does to you, maybe he should have just followed the rules.” 

Valerie was nearly ready to tear her hair out in frustration. “Oh, fuck off, won’t you? That’s not what this bullshit is about anymore.” 

“I don’t care, Val. He deserved it.” 

Her vision painted itself crimson. Abruptly, the pieces connected themselves. 

“Maybe Axl was right.” She conceded hotly. “I mean, he’s said it from the beginning.” 

Jill looked up reluctantly. “Said what?”

Her brown eyes were wide with both curiosity and apprehension.  _ Good _ . A bolt of power touched down in Val’s core. She smirked scornfully. 

“That you’re a manipulative fucking bitch that hides behind this goddamn mask of docility.” 

As the words dangled in the air above them, she watched tears spring to the corners of Jill’s eyes. Valerie didn’t feel a thing. 

Instead, she curled her lip up. “Oh, save it. I’m not falling for that bullshit.” 

“You’re—” 

“No. It’s my turn.” Valerie silenced her with a slicing motion of her hand and Jill’s lips promptly fell closed. “You trick people into thinking you’re a faultless person, when you’re not. You think that, just because you  _ can _ read people, that you’re somehow entitled to the privilege of giving input on their lives—of knowing everything there is to know about them.”

Tears fell freely now, but Valerie soldiered on. They were nothing more than crocodile tears. She was of utmost confidence in that. 

“Well, you’re not. It’s  _ my _ life and these are  _ my _ choices. Get your fucking hands out of it! I don’t have time for the duplicity.” She ordered with conviction. “Oh, God. I can’t  _ believe  _ he was right! I should have listened to him!” 

Jill shook her head lightly, wiping away furiously at her tears. Valerie sensed an impending rebuttal so she stomped it out immediately. She wouldn’t stand for anymore of her hatred of Axl. 

“Don’t start with me.” Val growled, baring her teeth. Her jaw clenched painfully. “I know he’s not perfect. I know he’s fucking flawed.” 

Valerie looked away, suddenly unable to look Jill in the eye. “He’s mean and he’s angry and he’s fucking  _ broken _ , but you know what? He doesn’t fuckin’ hide it.” 

Valerie picked up her house key and palmed it. The metal was cool against her hot hands. 

A droplet slid off the edge of Jill’s jaw and crashed onto the ceramic tile and the other girl shuddered audibly. It only empowered Valerie to deliver the final blow with a bitter poignancy.

“For that alone, he’s ten times the person you’ll ever be.” 

Jill’s eyes squeezed shut tightly, but Val didn’t feel a thing. 

“I can’t believe I even  _ thought _ that we could ever—” She seethed, unable to finish her thought. Her core tightened painfully. “I can’t believe it.” 

She didn’t wait any longer, fleeing from the kitchen immediately and making a beeline for her bedroom. She didn’t wait around for Jill to fall apart. 

The bed was still unmade from when she and Axl had slept in it last. As always, the comforter was spilled over the edge. Both pillows were shoved up onto his side of the bed. It was where they always seemed to gravitate. 

She didn’t let her vision stray for long. Marching up to her closest, she grabbed a duffel bag from the top shelf and unhooked her work uniform from behind the door. 

Blindly, she grabbed clothes from the top drawers of her dresser; enough to sustain her for a few days. There was no specific plan formulating in her head, only the undeniable knowledge that she could no longer have Jill in her direct line of sight. 

Then, she made her way to the bottom set of drawers, extracting clothes for Axl. She didn’t have to worry about what to pack. The contents of both drawers fit easily into the bag. 

Valerie was so angry that her chest was tight and heaving. She was seeing spots, so out of sorts that she was barely able to mentally piece together what she and Axl would need. How long would they be gone? Could she ever come back to look Jill in the eye again? She wasn’t sure. 

In that case, they’d need money; a large sum of it. Quickly, too. 

Val turned to her nightstand, eyeing the jewelry box that sat upon it. Lifting the false bottom of the bottom drawer, she extracted a bundle of cash—the rainy day fund—and slipped it into the side-pocket of the bag. Then, she exhaled heavily and examined the stained-glass piece.

It was the one Jill had given her as a gift for her first birthday they’d spent as friends. Back when she’d thought that there was nobody who had understood her complexities as well as Jill did. 

Again, Valerie had been wrong. So very wrong.

Jill hadn’t understood a single thing and she’d done more damage by pretending she had.

She lifted the lid. Inside was still the only jewelry she owned besides the pieces she was wearing. A simple, gold locket. 

Locked shut, it stared up at her. Her fingers ran over the face of it, but she didn’t have the strength to pop the clasp.

Memories of her twenty-second birthday flickered in like a film reel. She thought of the pure joy that had clung the atmosphere that night; then to the uncontained spark that had fizzled during the evening on the beach when Jill had first found the necklace just weeks before. That had been when Valerie believed more than anything that she had found a soulmate off a hidden advertisement in a diner.

God, she had been so fucking foolish to ever consider it.

Suddenly, a bolt of white-hot fury struck down in her abdomen. Before she could control herself, she sent the jewelry box flying over the side of the table.

It only narrowly missed the lamp, crashing against the floor with a deafening smash. The tinted glass shattered into a galaxy of ruins. The lid was sent off its hinges. 

Beneath the wire framing and obliterated pieces, the locket sat with the chain sprawled. The idea of it ever sitting around her neck again was enough to send her silver cross melting into her skin. Like a cast-iron branding, it was hot against her fingers. 

Breathing labored, she twisted back to her bed. Holding together the sides of the bag, Valerie worked on zipping it closed. When she was successful, she stepped over the shards and locket, threw the duffel over her shoulder, and headed for the bathroom. 

Still unable to see straight, she haphazardly gathered both of their toothbrushes, an extra tube of toothpaste, and a handful of other toiletries; all of which were shoved into a different side pocket. Valerie then exited just as swiftly, rejoining the main sector of the apartment. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jill still in the kitchen. She paid her no mind. Instead, she glanced to the armchair; the one she always fell into when she returned from work. The one where Axl had found her necklace all those months ago. 

If anybody had told her then just how much she would be willing to give up for him, she would have laughed in their face and branded them a fool. 

Now, she simply lifted the cushion and took what she needed. The black leather book fit beneath her arm snugly. It was a small, powerful reminder of who she was doing this for. 

Overwhelmingly, emotion flooded her senses. She needed to leave before things got messy. 

So she shifted, collected her belongings, and left the apartment. The door fell shut loudly in her wake. An unfortunate occurrence, really, given that it hadn’t yet reached seven in the morning. Not that she had it within her to care. She was hollow inside.

Leaving home behind no longer held such a weighty significance.

Valerie didn’t look back. 

_ Home _ . 

She exhaled shakily. 

The concept itself long since lost its meaning anyways.

* * *

Valerie stumbled out from the complex, nearly falling onto the sidewalk. 

The upset had transformed into full-blown dizziness now, and without warning, she felt bile creep up her throat again. Grabbing onto the nearest tree, she crouched and puked up the contents of her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday, though, so it was mostly just painful dry-heaves and brutal coughing. 

The texture of the bark was rough against her palm and her other free hand knotted into her unbrushed hair to hold it back. The heavy weight of the duffel dug into her side and her legs shook. 

The only thing more distressing than the bitter burn in the back of her throat was the unadulterated embarrassment that drenched her body. They lived in a bustling location, one packed with scores of families. Glancing up slowly, she saw a handful of them eye her with curious gazes. Some of their faces were riddled with concern, others with downright disgust. 

Valerie could only imagine what she looked like to them, with her greasy, tangled hair and rumpled clothing. She must have appeared completely unhinged. Entirely out of it. 

Taking her sleeve and wiping her mouth, she rose to her feet unsteadily. The flush on her cheeks probably could have been felt from miles away. It did nothing to cure the unsteadiness that flooded her bones. 

Yet, she felt the swell of the anger dim slightly. As if a weight in the pit of her stomach that had just been expelled. 

Of course, her blood was still boiling and her heart was beating uncontrollably in her chest, but it had been enough of a mitigation technique that she was beginning to regain some of her senses. Tucking her head down, she slipped into the back alley and exhaled. 

She supposed that it would have to be enough for the moment being, because she was weakening rapidly. 

Just like that, her energy had depleted. 

She couldn’t bring herself to regret anything, though. She was still fully confident in the notion that Jill had gone too far, an idea solidified now that it was guaranteed that her words and intent to harm had been intentional. 

For the first time since she’d met her, Jill had been selfish. 

She had prioritized her pride in her own intuition over the wants and needs of Valerie. She had refused to see reason, to understand that Valerie’s life choices (regardless of their questionable status) had been completely and utterly that.  _ Choices _ . 

Choices that, simply because they didn’t align with her personal philosophies, were somehow inherently incorrect. 

Well, Valerie was sure that Jill’s behavior was the only thing that had actually been in the wrong. 

She had been wrong and Axl had been right. For so long, Valerie had doubted that. More than anything, she owed him an apology.

When she reached the parking lot, she wandered toward her truck. It was sitting in one of the back spaces, shaded from the sun. 

She unlocked the door with the key and threw the duffel into the back seat, where it landed after jostling roughly a few times. Then, giving herself zero time to adjust, she started the ignition and peeled from the lot.

Settling onto the road, she yawned audibly. Valerie also now understood the exhaustion Axl had dragged with him to the motel last night. There was currently nothing more she wanted to do than to crawl back into bed and forget the existence of this morning. 

She wanted to block out the sound of Jill’s fiery-lined words, the sight of the orange sun encroaching upward to cast a too warm glint on the span of the kitchen, and the feeling of the glass box beneath her fingers as she cast it from its spot on her dresser. She wanted to banish it all. She didn’t want to experience anything more today. 

If she was lucky, perhaps Axl would still be asleep. That way, she could slip in beside him and pretend as though she had never left. The blanket of his body heat could drape over her and purge the poison from her limbs. Everything would fall back to as it had been before she’d pushed away one of the most important people in her life.

Was she more hurt that she was losing Jill as a friend or that Jill had so blatantly tried to sabotage the one source of happiness Val had finally found? There were so many questions she didn’t know if she’d ever find the answers to. 

An abrupt pang in her stomach reminded her of her promise made to pick something up before she returned and, despite the vile taste in her mouth, she couldn’t pass up on it. It didn’t matter if the concept of food was now entirely repugnant. She would get over the nausea eventually. 

A few chain restaurants had drive-through windows that were operating this early in the morning. Without considering the decision too much, she pulled into the nearest one and ordered the first meals that flew from her lips. As it was, Axl wasn’t picky. 

The two coffee cups were secured in the rattling cupholders, the bag of food placed on the seat next to her hip. Just the smell of it alone was enough to twist her stomach into knots. The motel was only a few turns away. Valerie willed herself to keep it together until then. 

She busied herself with the radio. A Van Halen song that had been a hit some few years ago was playing. Laughing slightly before turning it up, she questioned the odds of it. 

After all, it seemed to be true that all friendships were doomed to end. Just like she and Jill, Dave and Eddie had gone separate ways. They were over and done with. Their chapter had closed. 

The prospect didn’t even sadden her slightly.

Eddie and the band had managed to recreate their success with Hagar. Valerie could do it, too. She didn’t need Jill for that. 

In fact, at this moment, she didn’t even  _ want _ her. 

The thought compressed somewhat on her lungs. It was a dull, foreign ache. A cold, empty, hollow pain. She just needed to find a way to fill the gap, like she always did. 

Skidding into the motel lot, she parked quickly and jumped down from the cab. Pulling the duffel from the backseat, she simultaneously juggled the food, coffee, and keys. The only thing more difficult than that was the curious balancing act she performed in order to unlock the door.

When it popped open, Valerie found the room to be cloaked in darkness. His outline was visible from where she stood, still huddled beneath the blankets. She wasn’t even sure if he’d moved at all since she had left. 

She closed the door slowly, waiting until the last possible second to release the handle. It was entirely useless.

“I’m awake.” came from beneath the blankets, muffled.

“Oh,” whispered Valerie. “Sorry.” 

Her voice was hoarse, syllables scratching on their way out. Axl detected it immediately and the pillows crinkled as he raised his head. 

“You okay?”

Back pressed against the door, her stomach dropped. She hadn’t prepared for what she would say to him. 

How was she to explain that she had gone against his explicit wishes? How was she to illustrate that she and Jill would probably never be on speaking terms again? 

“Yeah, all good.” She lied. “I’ve got food.” 

Tip-toeing further inwards, she kicked her shoes off and placed the food onto the desk. The bag of clothes thudded against the floor. Then, she shed his leather jacket and rested it over the back of the chair. 

He huffed and rolled over. “Not hungry.” 

“Me either.” She replied truthfully, beginning her way towards him. 

Without the guidance of the light, it was difficult to see where she was going. It wasn’t until her shins rammed into the metal frame of the mattress that she gained any semblance of spatial awareness. 

“God,  _ fuck _ —” 

Muffling a string of curses, she fell onto the bed. Her back hit the headboard roughly and Axl chuckled, the sound still heavy with sleep. 

“It’s not funny, you asshole.” She scolded, shoving him by the shoulder. 

From beneath her, she removed his folded clothing and dropped it to the floor. The note she’d written fell along with it, drifting to the ground like a leaf blown off its branch. 

“It’s a little funny.” He returned, tossing the blankets from over his head. 

Valerie rolled her eyes. “It’s not.” 

“Whatever,” He sighed and sat up, moving to place a kiss on her cheek. “Come here.” 

“No,” She squeaked, pulling away. “Don’t kiss me.” 

Axl leaned back sharply. “Why the fuck not?” 

Valerie thought back to rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she puked onto the grass. She could still feel the claminess of her forehead. She could still feel the eyes of dozens of onlookers as they bore holes into her convulsing figure. 

“I haven’t showered yet.” She claimed, pivoting away. “I’m gross.” 

Axl scoffed. “Really? Like I care.” 

He tried again and she jumped from the bed. “Axl, no.” 

Groaning, he reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp. It drowned the room in a soft yellow glow. His expression was drowsy, his hair tousled. 

“What’s going on?” Axl asked. 

“Nothing,” She responded. “I said I was—” 

His eyes shifted behind her. “What’s with the bag?” 

_ Fuck _ . She’d forgotten. Looking down at her feet, she desperately tried to conjure up an appropriate response, only to repeatedly draw blanks. A new wave of nausea descended upon her. 

“Valerie,” He called, his voice losing its playful tone. “What happened?”

If she didn’t tell him the truth, she knew she would lose her stomach again. She exhaled painfully. 

“I went to talk to Jill.” 

He sighed, tipping his head back against the wall. “Val, I fuckin’ told you to leave it alone.”

She was defensive almost immediately. “Well, maybe I didn’t fucking want to. Maybe it had nothing to do with you.” 

The lie almost couldn’t fit itself past her lips. 

“Bullshit.” He spat. “I didn’t need you to clean up another mess of mine.” 

She laughed at the irony. 

“Oh, trust me. I didn’t clean up shit.” 

At her words, his eyebrows shot upward, his expression then quickly eclipsing into something more apologetic. 

“What happened?” He repeated, softer. 

“I went back to the apartment to talk to her.” She shrugged. 

“And?” 

“And you were right.” Valerie confirmed. “She’s a lost fuckin’ cause. There’s no reaching her.” 

His bare shoulders drooped, his frown deep. “Don’t say that. This will pass, I’ll get over it. She’ll—” He rolled his eyes. “We’ll work something out.” 

“No, you don’t understand.” She replied. “She and I are done. We’re not going back.” 

Axl’s eyes shifted to the bag again, his gaze packed with meaning. “No—”

“I’m not fucking going back, Axl. She’s a selfish fucking bitch who’s too obsessed with my life to focus on her own. She was mean to you, she was mean to me, and she  _ meant _ it. She meant everything she said. You were right.” 

“I wasn’t.” Axl responded. He tossed the floral comforter off his body and threw his legs over the side of the bed. The glare of the lamplight sharply defined the muscles of his back as he threw his head over his shoulder. “And I’m not worth ruining your friendship with her over. I’m just not. She meant what she said because what she said was right.” 

Valerie gripped onto her limbs and hugged them to her body, shaking her head.

“You know it’s true.” He continued. “She’s your best friend and I don’t want to come between that. I never have. It’s okay that she has problems with me. Everyone does.” 

He flashed a weak smile in an effort of consolation. It fell flat. 

“I’m not choosing between you two if there’s not a second option. I don’t  _ want _ to be her friend.” Valerie insisted, before adding “And she obviously doesn’t know how to be mine.” 

He shrugged. “I don’t think that.” 

“Well, I do.” She responded. 

“What’d she say to you?” He asked as he stood up, pushing his hair from his face.

Valerie’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“What did it? What was it that she said that did it?” He rephrased, gesturing to the duffel at her feet. As he spoke, he grabbed his sweatshirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. 

“I went over there to sort out what she said to you, you know? I wanted to hear her side of the story, maybe figure out where she was coming from. But,” Valerie bit her lip and looked away. “The things she said to you, they were fuckin’ uncalled for. She went over the line.” 

The last words echoed loudly in the room. She wondered how many times she’d shouted them at Jill just hours before.

“But that’s not all, is it?” Axl questioned. “Val, just forget about what she said to me. I’ve heard worse. Hell, I’ve gotten it worse from the guys. Honestly. It’s not a big deal.” 

“It is to  _ me _ .” She emphasized. “That’s not what it was, though. It was when I told her that she and I have two different definitions of what it meant to be happy and she refused to accept it.” 

He moved to stand in front of her, his gaze quizzical. It was as though he was trying his hardest to decipher the information she wouldn’t give him and to interpret the emotions she wouldn’t unlock. 

In the end, all it took was the rough skin of his hand cupped around her cheek before she lost it completely. The anger melted away into a bleeding hurt. Now it was her turn to cry. 

His other arm was around her before the first tear slid down her cheek, her face hurriedly pressed up against his shoulder. 

“She thinks it’s my goal in life to go out like Morrison or something. She thinks I’m a whore with nothing better to do than fuck you.” Valerie wept, eyes burning. “That’s not true.”

The weight of the sob in her throat was choking her. “She doesn’t understand my choices, and I never said she  _ had _ to. But she doesn’t respect the fact that they’re my decisions, either. I’m not a child, Axl.” 

More tears fell, tinting the grey of his sweatshirt an obsidian color. “It’s my life. I can do what I want with it.” 

“I know you can.” He responded levelly. 

“But do you?” She inquired skeptically, sniffling. “You just said that you think she’s right. And you’re willing to leave me purely because of the ideas that you’ve made up in your head about yourself.” 

He pulled her away from him, directing her chin upwards. “First of all, I’m never gonna leave you.” 

His tone was tight, ripe with conviction. She averted her eyes, taking the moment to wipe them. 

“But I’m always going to give you a way out, Valerie, because I still don’t want to see you hurt. I still don’t want to be the one to hurt you.” 

“That.  _ That’s _ what I don’t want to hear.” Val pinpointed. 

“I know—” 

“No, you don’t know, otherwise you wouldn’t feel the need to constantly bring it up.” She explained. “You ever do something to hurt me and you’ll know. I’ll make sure you do.” 

“It’s not that easy.” He asserted.

She clenched her jaw, staring up at him with wide eyes. “You two are both so fucking obsessed with the idea that something  _ might _ happen that you’ll jinx it. Let me make the call. For  _ once _ .”

Axl brushed the hair from her face. The skin of his hand was cool against her forehead. 

“I’m trying.” 

She deflated like a balloon.

For some reason, that answer satisfied her more than an  _ okay _ . The evidence of effort was worth more than a forgettable, half-hearted promise.

“You want this, yeah? She asked, waving her hand in the small amount of space between them. 

“You want us?” 

His hands tightened around her arms, his expression affronted. “You fuckin’ know I do.” 

“And I do, too. This thing between you and me—whatever the fuck you wanna call it—it’s important to me.” Valerie offered, locking her gaze within his sage-colored irises. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask to keep it between the two of us. It doesn’t belong to anybody else. It’s not theirs to pry at and pick apart. You feel like there’s a problem, then that’s okay, but don’t fucking let it be for anyone’s benefit but ours.”

“I—” His voice came out thick before his expression straightened. “Okay.”

“Is that okay with you?” She asked gently.

He sighed with acceptance. “Yeah.”

Valerie nodded and then leaned back into him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. The space was still damp from her tears. Her arms wrapped around his torso, her hands rubbing across his upper back as his arms wound over her shoulders, pulling her flush against him. 

She closed her eyes. 

Even if her life was falling apart in every other aspect, she believed that she had finally cracked Axl. 

If absolutely nothing else, at least she had gotten through to him. 

And, though it wasn’t much, it was enough to keep her grounded for the time being. 

She didn’t know where she’d wake up tomorrow, or how long the money would stretch. The topic of how she’d approach retrieving the rest of their belongings from Jill’s was completely shrouded in mystery, too. But at least she could be certain that Axl had her back in the meantime. Just like she had dropped everything to have his. 

She released a shaky breath, only shuddering harder when one of his hands came up to cradle the back of her head. She was so goddamn tired. 

“Hey,” Axl called abruptly, disturbing the peace. 

“Yeah?” Her voice was muted against the fabric. 

“Why wouldn’t you kiss me? When you first got here.” 

Her closed eyes squeezed hard, geometric patterns fizzling into view. Humiliation bloomed on her cheeks. “I puked on the fucking sidewalk outside the complex.” 

His body tensed. “Why?” 

“Anger, I guess. I don’t know. I was overwhelmed.” 

“Oh.” Axl responded, then he released his hold on her. “Go shower, then. I’ll just be out here.” 

She chuckled lightly, readjusting her bunched up sweater and releasing her hair from its lopsided updo. “You could use one too, you know.” 

“Sounds tempting.” He replied, rolling his eyes. “Maybe in a minute. I’m fucking starving.” 

Valerie broke away from him and he turned to the bag of food on the desk. It had probably long since gone cold. 

She bent down over the duffel bag and unzipped it, gathering what she needed before wandering off to the bathroom. It was located right off the entrance, situated adjacent to the mirrored closet. From floor to ceiling, the room was covered in a bright teal tile. Given the subpar standards she held for motels, it was relatively clean. 

When she twisted the handle, the nozzle exploded in an ice cold rain. While it heated up, she worked on removing her clothes, excited to be rid of them. She’d have to remind Axl to go break a twenty into quarters. They’d need it for a laundromat.

She ran a comb through her hair slowly, careful when it caught on every knot possible. If she didn’t get through it now, however, it’d be impossible with the addition of the cheap hotel shampoo. 

Valerie  _ tsk _ ed. Her mental shopping list kept growing. It was packed from end to end in things she hadn’t thought to pack when she was storming around the apartment. In the heat of it, all that had mattered were the bare essentials. Nothing else.

Speaking of, Valerie picked up her toothbrush and covered it in a generous glob of toothpaste. The foul taste in her mouth had finally gotten the best of her. After dipping it beneath the faucet, she stuck it in her mouth and scoured unforgivingly. It was something she should have done when she’d first arrived. 

Running her hand beneath the showerhead, she found that the water was appropriately warm. She spit into the bowl, rinsing her mouth out several times before drying it on one of the cheap white towels rolled up in the corner. She then stepped from her underwear and into the water. 

The pressure was an immediate relaxant upon her muscles. Valerie felt the stress spill from her, swirling into the drain below. She didn’t want to contemplate where it went, but she hoped it was gone for good. 

The complimentary shampoo was mint-scented. It was an overpowering eucalyptus that she dumped into her hair without thought. Rationing was important, so she wasn’t sure if it would have any actual impact on the thick locks of her hair, but the motions were enough. She scrubbed roughly as the rest of her body warmed. 

She looked downwards. Her toes tapped against the teal ceramic, the nails painted a blue she’d borrowed from Jill. She added acetone to the shopping list. 

Valerie leaned her head back and rinsed. The water, thick with soap, slapped against the surface of the shower floor. It was one of those half-shower, half-bath sort of things, bringing to Val a new idea for later. She hadn’t had time for a bath in so long. 

Just as she’d finished scrubbing her skin raw with the paper-thin washcloth, she heard the shower curtain open; the metal rings notching audibly against every divot in the rod. She didn’t look up from her task, placing the bar of soap back onto the ledge and pulling her hair over her shoulder. 

His fingers, rough and calloused, slid over her shoulders. But his movements weren’t carnal. Quite the opposite, actually. They were softly intimate. Gentle. 

Eventually, they came to rest above her navel, clasped. His chin hooked itself over her shoulder, his chest pressed up against her shoulder blades. 

“I’m sorry.” He announced. 

Her lips turned downwards. “Why?” 

“Because I know how you feel about me.” Axl responded. “And because I know that I can’t be making any of this easy for you.” 

Valerie moved to speak but was promptly drowned out by his voice. 

“But I want to thank you, too.” 

“What for?”

“For loving me.” He clarified. 

“Axl,” Valerie choked on his name. 

“For not giving up on me.” He continued. Gingerly, one of his hands came to rest on her hip, the other wrapping around her midriff. “For always having my back, even when no one else does.” 

A grand, magnificent emotion lodged itself in her throat; pure love.

“Ax,” She repeated, her vision blurry. 

“I’m serious, Valerie. I can’t fucking comprehend any of the goddamn shit that you do, but I can tell you that I’ve never had this before. I’ve never had a person care as much as you do.” 

She glanced down at the arms around her waist, tracing her eyes over the varied textures of his bracelets. They were like a postcard from home. A comfort. 

“You know I’m always gonna be that person for you.” She responded, leaning her head back on his shoulder. “If you’ll let me.” 

“I will.” He nodded, placing a delicate kiss to her temple before lowering his mouth to her ear. “And I’m hoping you’ll let me be that person for you, too.”

The hand that held her hip she entwined with her own and squeezed. Words failed her entirely. Desperately, she hoped he’d pick up on the message. 

“I mean it. Thank you.” He whispered again, then squeezed his palm against hers. 

The water ran off their enclasped hands, the droplets converging on their way to the drain. 

Just this morning, she’d had her heart ripped out on the kitchen floor. Like her jewelry box, it lied in shattered shards. But, somehow, Axl had taken the time to pick up each fragment and find a way to piece them back together. 

The glue wasn’t dry yet and she didn’t think it would be for a while, but the temporary fix was enough to keep her whole for now. 

* * *

They hadn’t left the shower until the water ran cold. 

With great difficulty, it was only then that he released her from his tight grip, laying a final soft kiss to the bridge of her nose before shoving the handle downwards. 

Valerie turned to grab the towels, handing one to him and drying herself off with the other. 

He stroked it through his hair a few times before wrapping it around his waist, the fabric cutting against the sharp lines of his hips. Forcing herself to look away, she wasn’t sure if the heat that crept up her neck was a result of the suffocating humidity that clung to the atmosphere, or other, more internal factors. 

They had already wasted the entire first half of the day. There was no more time to spare. Not now, anyway. There were still too many things to do. 

Pulling a loose t-shirt over her head, she bent over and tied her soaked hair within the towel. She then left the bathroom, giving him the space to actually clean up after himself. 

The bag of clothes remained wide open on the floor and she quickly lifted it onto the bed. The amount of time they’d be spending here was unconfirmed, but she was sure that a little organization would do wonders to soothe the consistent ball of anxiety that had been unfurling in her stomach. 

Taking a handful of cheap wire hangers from the closet, she set about hanging up the articles. 

Every so often, she would beat the piece into the air, freeing it of wrinkles, before slipping it onto the rack. She expanded the rickety ironing-board and shoved it into the corner of the room, laying her uniform atop it; a definite problem for later. 

Next, she propped open the drawers and worked to divide out what she could. She was sure that she was mixing up pieces, here and there, but she didn’t care too much. It was more of an issue for him than it was for her. 

The extra pairs of shoes went tumbling onto the floor, next to the ones they’d worn there. 

Unable to do anything until Axl was done, she laid the toiletries in a pile in the center of the bed. From the side-pocket, she extracted the cash and threw it into the nightstand drawer. It bounced against the banged-up Bible before rolling against the side. Slamming the drawer shut, Valerie supposed she would count it up later. 

Then, finally, she dug into the bag of food on the desk. It was a lukewarm breakfast sandwich of an unknown composition that she bit into without hesitation. She was utterly famished, her stomach aching painfully. The coffee was barely tepid, as well, but she didn’t care. At this point, anything tasted like a five-star meal. The nausea had long since passed and her abdomen was wringing itself dry. 

The bathroom door opened a few minutes after she had finished the food. She turned around to find him standing in the doorway. His hair was still damp, the copper strands laying limp over his shoulders. 

“You look a lot better,” he told her. On his face was a small smile.

She chuckled and removed the towel from her head. Picking up the brush from the bed, she ran it through the knotted length of her hair. “I  _ feel _ a lot better.” 

“Good.” Axl responded, then made his way over to her. Despite finding himself a pair of pants, he was still shirtless. His bare arms wrapped around her tightly, his nose nudging her chin upwards. Slowly, his lips found hers. 

For a moment, Valerie allowed herself to melt into his grasp. One of his hands was placed against the small of her back, the other planted between the blades of her shoulders. The weight of his kiss was always enough to make her go weak in the knees.

She willed herself to find strength, breaking away. “No, come on.  _ Later _ . We’ve got things to do.” 

He groaned against her mouth. “Like what?” 

“Like where the hell we go from here.” Valerie peppered little kisses on his cheeks. “We can’t stay here forever.” 

“Says who?” He retorted. One of his hands slid up the column of her throat before coming to rest beneath her jaw. 

“Me, I guess.” She responded lightly, rolling her eyes. 

That wasn’t true, though. She was nearly certain that she’d live anywhere if it was with him. 

“Ugh, fine.” He grunted, before stepping away. “I need a fuckin’ smoke anyways. I’ll be back.” 

“I’ll be out there in a minute.” She replied, returning the desk to clean up after herself. 

He nodded and picked up his jacket, slipping it on and fishing through the pockets. Eventually, he pulled out a box of Marlboros and a lighter. 

The door fell closed quietly, a burst of cold air curling into the room. 

Valerie worked to deposit the bathroom supplies into their proper places, then faced the bed. She wasn’t normally a person that needed to keep her living space obsessively clean, never viewing it as too much of a priority. Half the time, she barely even put the effort into making her bed at home. 

She tensed. 

_ At Jill’s _ . 

But for some odd reason, she had a deep-rooted  _ need _ to keep her head above water here. As if she had something to prove. 

Maybe it was just the fact that she so badly needed to show the world that she and Axl could make it on their own. 

When the bed was made, she yanked the blinds open. The room drowned itself immediately in a pale sunlight, one that forced her eyes shut instinctively. Regardless of the warmth the sun offered, it looked painfully cold outside. Crinkled auburn leaves skidded against the dented pavement, scattering. 

Yet a contentment dripped down Valerie’s spine at the sight. Because, even if it was only for a short period of time, she felt well pieced together. Balanced, even. 

She found Axl sitting right outside the door, parked in a white plastic chair. He gestured for her to sit down in the one opposite him and then blindly pointed to the stack that was tucked away in the corner of the building’s wrap-around. Immediately, the curious expression on her face fell away. 

Axl returned his attention to his cigarette, pinching it between his lips and inhaling.

“You know,” Valerie began, fitting her arms into a sweatshirt. “You should probably stop bunking with me.” 

He met her gaze with a smirk. “Yeah? Why’s that?” 

“This is the second time I’ve gotten you turned out in less than two months.” She replied, frowning. 

“Eh.” Axl shrugged. “Can’t say I’m too upset about it this time around. I’ve got you, at least.” 

“Optimistic.” Val deadpanned. “I’m serious, though. I know we’ll figure something out eventually, but until then...” 

She trailed off, unsure of what words to fill the space with. 

“I’m not worried about it. We’ll make this work, Val.”

“I don’t understand how you can say that, but I appreciate the positivity.” She responded, throwing her wet hair over her shoulder. 

“Because this isn’t my first fuckin’ rodeo.” He replied. 

As he spoke, he knocked his cigarette against the arm of his chair. The ashes spiraled into the wind, disappearing. 

She inhaled deeply, the scent no longer an aversive one. It no longer came to represent a distraught mother bent over the overdue water bill late at night. It was something distinctly Axl; an attribute that she would probably never learn to part from him. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into her head; one she hadn’t had since high school. 

Promptly, she extended an upturned palm. He stared down at it, his features puzzled. 

“What?” 

“I want one.” She replied. 

His eyebrows rose before his eyes narrowed. She could tell he was waging about seventy-two internal battles simultaneously. The sound of the gears shifting in his head was deafening. 

“You do?” 

She nodded and, without hesitation, he lifted the package from his lap and handed it to her. The lighter followed suit. 

While Valerie fiddled with the box, Axl looked away. The breeze ran lightly through his hair, which was softer now that it had mostly dried. The slope of his outline was inexplicably serene. He looked as unbothered as he claimed to be. 

The cigarette felt foreign between her lips. It had been years since she’d tried one. Abruptly, she was taken back to being huddled up as a sixteen year old in the corner of the town park, passing the smoke between whatever group of kids had scoped out the newest form of rebellion. 

And it was only when she moved to raise the lighter that she found resistance. The damn thing refused to spark. She groaned. 

Axl looked over at her, his expression neutral. Between his fingers was his own, the vapor curling up to the sky. 

He cleared his throat. “What are you doing?” 

She looked up and frowned, knowing it had all been too good to be true. “Please, just...  _ save _ it—” 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He sat up. “You’re doing it wrong. Here, give it to me.”

“Oh.” 

She handed him the lighter and leaned forward. He brought a hand up to cup the flame, holding it to the end until it glowed a striking crimson. 

She coughed slightly out of surprise, falling back onto the chair unsteadily. 

It didn’t take her long to find her groove, though. When she exhaled for the first time without complication, a dazzling smile spread over his face. 

Valerie rolled her eyes. “What’s funny?” 

“Nothing.” Axl shook his head. 

Nicotine filled her senses. “No, come on.” 

He shrugged. “You just don’t know how fucking perfect you are.”

“Oh, you motherfucker. You’re so full of it.” Valerie laughed, looking away. 

There was no way she could hide the furious blush that covered her cheeks. 

“You asked.”

She flipped him off and shook her head. Then, she groaned and threw her head back. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’ve got to work tonight.” 

“Don’t go.” Axl stated simply. 

“And then we’ll have no money. You’d still want me if our bed was a concrete one?”

He chuckled. “Darling, I’d still want you if meant I’d be eating the rest of my meals out of the fuckin’ dumpster. I’d still fuck you, too. It’s not like a bit of a hard surface ever stopped us.” 

Laughing again, Valerie tapped the ash from her cigarette. “Be still my goddamn heart, Axl. And they say romance is dead.” 

He threw up his hands, his features twisted in playfulness.

She looked away, shaking her head. There was no way in hell that she’d consider skipping work tonight, but the concept was nice. Valerie could easily see herself wasting away the rest of the night, trapped beneath the swaddle of the sheets while they still had them. Permanence was never guaranteed with him. She wanted to keep hold of it for as long as she possibly could.

“We'll make it work, though.” She said eventually, breaking the several minutes of comfortable silence. “I promise.” 

“I know.” He responded. “I’ve never doubted that.” 

Valerie grinned.

_ Oh well _ . It was alright. 

The future was inherently undecided, as it was, and it remained true that she wasn’t one to think so far ahead, either. 

Tonight, at least, Axl would show up halfway through and make the hours fly by, like he always did. 

She knew she could always depend on him for that. 


	17. aftermath.

_ Friday, October 3rd, 1986. _

At the end of the day, the sensation of rage was still a foreign one. 

Jill was starkly at odds with herself. Distinctly  _ uncomfortable _ . Since the evening before, when things had come to a head with Axl, fury had been jam-packed in her chest. Like a parasite, it ate away at her. 

Jill wasn’t an angry person. To the barest of her bones, she wasn’t built for such venomous emotions. She couldn’t make use of them, like Valerie could. And, unlike Axl, she didn’t wear them like battle armor. Her body rejected it almost as much as her brain did. 

Because, almost immediately, she knew that she had taken things too far. It had taken over her, the implosion contorting herself into her own villain. She’d been harsh and rash. She’d been  _ mean _ . 

Once again, emotion welled up. Even more so, Jill wasn’t a mean person.

Valerie had left the kitchen with a final shout and a quick turn of her heel. The tears had stopped falling immediately, Jill’s breathing suspending in her throat as she awaited the slam of a bedroom door. 

It never came. 

She looked up, then. Across the way, she could see Valerie grabbing clothing by the armful from her closet. Her blonde hair was wild and her outfit—the same from the day before—was rumpled beyond belief. She had burst into the apartment looking worse for wear, but now it was as though she had been tossed into the wringer. Her movements, though short and choppy, were crazed; feral. 

Eventually, Valerie had walked out of sight and Jill turned away. She faced the kitchen, taking in the scene. With a single exception, it looked the same as it had when Axl had blown through. Clean, utterly unreflective of the destruction that had taken place therein. Bending down, she picked up the orange that had rolled off the counter during Val’s outburst and placed it back into the bowl. It looked sad and miserable in comparison to its neighbours.

Jill didn’t know what to do with herself in the meantime. She was left stranded in the middle of the room, reeling. There was nothing for her to grasp onto. The notion that Valerie was preparing to leave was solidifying rapidly. 

Perhaps if she ran to meet her halfway, she could change things. She could beg Val to hear her out. To lend an ear to her side of things. That’s what Valerie had demanded, after all, when she had burst her way through the door. She had been inches from grabbing Jill by the shirt collar and shaking the truth from her. 

But, then again, Jill supposed that she had  _ tried _ to do that. She had tried to break down her argument with Axl into fair terms that Valerie would understand. Valerie just refused to listen. 

That was precisely what had pushed Jill over the edge. It was the specific reason she continued to spill her guts, despite seeing the pain and upset cement itself onto the other girl’s features. Val hadn’t let her explain her side of the story. 

It didn’t matter what front she put up, it was painstakingly clear that Valerie had made up her mind before she had arrived. She’d had the parameters of the argument drawn in a thick white chalk. There had been no room for debate. Axl had gotten to her first. 

Jill’s point almost proved itself.   
Because, even as the dust began to settle, she still didn’t think her reasonings were wrong. When the argument was stripped down to its innermost core, her thoughts remained the same. 

And nothing, not even Valerie’s screaming protest, could lessen her certainty in the belief that things would end badly between the two of them. The boys were on the brink of something big and Jill couldn’t deny the fact that they were a single stroke of luck from taking off. Axl would get a taste of fame, understand the true depth of what it meant to be a rockstar, and be gone from this Earth. 

He still was and always had been a flight risk. As soon as he didn’t have anything tying him down, he’d be gone. He wasn’t going to wait around for anything; much less a girl like Valerie, who could simultaneously give him both everything and absolutely nothing. She didn’t comprehend that she wasn’t going to be enough for a man like him. 

Jill knew his kind. They were all the same. Valerie had fallen right into his trap, lulling herself into a false sense of security. He was going to break her heart, and now, there was nothing Jill could do but watch it crash and burn in slow motion as Val blew past all of the warning signs. 

She sighed. Maybe she had already lost her. It had been so long since she’d seen the girl she would recognize anyways. The girl that would sit next to her on the balcony as she gardened, tapping her toes to whatever classic piece that was spinning on the turntable. The girl that would sit squashed up against her on the couch late at night, telenova reruns filling the wide open gathering room like white noise. The girl that would press her face up against the glass of every small boutique they passed to point out a fun pair of earrings that she believed Jill would be interested in. 

The girl that had taken what she wanted out of life, all on her own. 

That girl was gone. She had been for weeks now.

And Jill couldn’t even attest to the possibility that Valerie’s source of happiness had simply changed. From her side of things, it didn’t appear as though Axl was offering her any sort of joy. Just a cycle of miscommunicated squabbles followed quick, repetitive trysts that meant much more to her than they ever would to him.

A flicker of the ire returned. Exasperation flared at the forefront of her mind. 

Maybe if Val didn’t  _ want _ to listen, then Jill shouldn’t have to exert such energy. Sometimes lost causes were exactly that. 

Then her head shook on its own accord, because that wasn’t who she was. There was a very real possibility that Jill was letting her best friend slip through her fingers like sand. Valerie was proving herself to be drawn to the aura of danger and recklessness that Axl presented, morphing her behavior to run with his crowd. There had to be some way to prove her convictions to be true. 

But Jill had tried everything. She had run out of options. For the first time in years, she didn’t know what to do. 

There was only one thing Jill was certain of, and that was that she had felt the crash before she heard it.

Standing there, arms shaking and head bowed, the cacophony had resounded through her like a stone through a glass house. It was as though every individual shard of glass had pierced through her skin before it had hit the floor of Valerie’s bedroom. 

And she didn’t need to do any thinking to know what it was. The small tinted-glass jewelry box was the only other thing in her room beyond the necessities. It was the one that Jill had found in an old antique resale shop and gifted to Valerie for the first birthday they’d shared living together. 

_ June 2nd _ . 

It had been her twenty-second birthday, falling just a couple weeks before Valerie had met Axl. Before everything had changed. 

(For the better or worse, the vote was still out). 

Back in the early weeks of summer, everything had been different. She didn’t think there was anything she wouldn’t give to go back to them. Because, more than anything, she missed that Valerie. It was the version of her best friend that had been bubbly and bright, needing no help to stay there. 

Now, she couldn’t even look Jill in the eye. Like the jewelry box, everything between them had collapsed. 

The realization burned her body like a wildfire, the sound of the crash still echoing in her skull. Tears threatened to return. She tried in vain to keep them at bay. 

But the sight of Valerie exiting her room and ducking into the bathroom was too much to bear. She cried freely now. It was inescapably a reality that Valerie was gearing up to leave home. She had yelled so long about choices, but it hadn’t mattered. Jill should have seen it coming. She had made her choice and it wasn’t her. She’d chosen Axl. 

That  _ stung _ . 

Maybe more so than the prolonged knowledge that Jill knew Valerie would never choose her all along. 

_ No _ . Her eyes squeezed shut in agony. Nothing hurt worse than that. 

Nothing cut deeper than the gradual feeling of replacement speeding up to the event of being dismissed completely. 

Valerie then left the bathroom, dragging behind her a lumpy black duffel bag. She made her way to one of the armchairs and bent to pick something up. From where Jill stood, she didn’t have the proper vantage point to see what it was.

She returned her attention to the kitchen window. Even when she squinted, she could barely see anything. Her vision was marred by thick tears. Just the act of swallowing down the sob in her throat was an uphill battle. 

She heard Valerie readjust, huffing as the buckles on the bag jangled. 

This was the last opportunity Jill would get today. Pushing her anger and reservations aside, if she let Valerie walk out now, there was no way of knowing when she’d see her again. She couldn’t let Axl win. She couldn’t let his sick, twisted fucking smirk take the only thing she had left. 

It had always been her and Valerie; attached at the hip. A single night in a second-rate diner may have changed that and ripped it to shreds, but Jill was terrified of letting go of the pieces. 

It was okay. She could fix this. All she had to do was—

The front door slammed closed. 

Just like that, Valerie was gone.

The sob unleashed itself from her throat without preamble. Her body bent itself over the sink, her hand grappling for purchase on the faucet. The edge of the counter dug into her stomach painfully. 

She was crying so hard she could hardly breathe. The power of the door falling closed had been enough to shake the frame of the whole apartment, rattling Jill’s entire skeleton. 

Yet the silence that followed was even more biting. All at once, Jill was spectacularly and bitterly alone. Valerie had chosen Axl and she was returning to him now. It had meant nothing to her to sever their ties. 

She didn’t care about what Jill had to say and she didn’t care that she was buying a one-way ticket to her death. (Even if it wasn’t a physical death, it was surely a brutal demise of who she was as a person. Both were equally tragic, but only one kept around a permanent physical reminder of what used to be). 

The cool metal of the faucet carved into her palm. The skin of her hand was clammy, her arm shaking. There was so much she wanted to say that the words practically bubbled like lava to the tip of her tongue. She was powerless, though, to make use of them. Her throat was scorched, and it was as though searing candle wax sealed her limbs into place. 

Jill was frozen, her own aversive reaction rendering her immobile. She didn’t know how to cope with losing the only person she had to turn to. Simply acknowledging that she had not been that person for Valerie for a very long time was hard enough of a pill to swallow. 

She had seen it coming, undoubtedly, but she still couldn’t erase the feeling of the rug being pulled from beneath her. She had been wholeheartedly blindsided. 

Once Axl stormed out last night, Jill had taken the time to gather her thoughts. Similar to how it had gone with Valerie, she’d gotten flustered. She could still feel the patches of heat plastering her neck. Her anger over coming home and finding Axl smoking had been unprecedented, regardless of whether or not everything that had followed hadn’t really been about that. 

She knew that it was an odd rule to have; an uncommon one. She knew that he—and all of the other boys, for that matter—struggled with it or, at the very least, were severely inconvenienced by it. But it had been her  _ only _ rule. Nearly everything else had been up for grabs. 

Jill hadn’t minded the occasions that Duff and Izzy would stay until four in the morning, wreaking havoc and emptying her fridge. She was forcibly ignorant of early afternoons that Axl and Valerie would fill the apartment with the sound of whatever obscene activity they had decided to entertain themselves with, usually when they hadn’t realized she’d returned home from work. And she had even managed to keep her cool the one time Axl  _ did _ actually fail to pay rent. (Valerie had tried her best to hide it, but she knew. Jill always knew.)

On top of all the other shit that his existence put her through, he had still made the conscious decision to defy the singular request. That, paired with her worries over his effect on Valerie, had been the final straw. She had no longer been able to keep a lid on everything she had been pushing down since he’d first moved in two months prior. He was a walking catastrophe and he was hellbent on taking everything he possibly could down with him. 

Valerie wasn’t able to see these gaping flaws, so Jill just needed to work harder to make them known. Perhaps she had done so a bit harshly—she could still see the grimace on his face as he begged her to stop talking—but she didn’t take back what she said. He was wrong, and somebody needed to tell him. She shouldn’t have been so villainized for having the strength to do so. 

It was so much more than him smoking. Both he and Valerie just hadn’t been able to see that the cigarette had simply been the catalyst. If things hadn’t peaked last night, they would have eventually. 

It wasn’t out of nowhere, even if they assumed it was. Jill did not arrive home with the intention of causing havoc, but she had been oppressing such feelings for the longest time. They’d been simmering quietly. What she walked in on last night simply stirred them into activity. 

Was she aware of the fact that she may have gone overboard? Yes, absolutely;  _ painfully _ , even. But was she also aware of the fact that Axl would reach Valerie first, and therefore gain the advantage by planting his side of the story upon her impressionable mind? Also yes. That was where the conflict arose. 

That was why she was utterly blindsided by Valerie’s explosive entrance this morning, but mostly unsurprised by the specifics of her rebuttal. She still had held hope that Valerie would have made an attempt to hear what she had to say. After all, Jill was only doing this to protect her. Everything she had said to Axl was an acute reflection of that. 

Then Valerie had stormed in and gutted Jill entirely, ripping the words from her throat. She lost sight of what she had been fighting for, so thrown off course by what she was seeing. In the eight months they had lived together, there was never so much as a disagreement passed between the two of them. The Valerie standing before her was a pathetic excuse of the girl she used to know. She was warped beyond belief. 

Dead already, maybe. 

She claimed to be happy, and maybe she was. But at what cost? Was Jill simply damned to sit back and watch as her best friend lost herself to a life she had rushed into? 

The sadness in her stomach materialized into staunch nausea. There was no way that Jill would be content to let this pass her by. Both of them had accused her of being manipulative, of sticking her hands in business that didn’t belong to her, yet it was all occurring under her roof. At the end of the day, this apartment belonged to her and Valerie. Not Axl. It wasn’t his space to control and pervert. 

She paused to sniffle audibly. The solid block of crying she’d accomplished produced a dull thrum in her temples. Grabbing her tea mug, she filled it with lukewarm water from the tap and gulped it down. It’s effect was minimal, she still felt shaky on her feet. Utterly drained. 

Jill didn’t normally experience emotions at such a height. She lived quietly. 

He brought out the worst in her and Valerie fed off of it.

She was tired of being portrayed as the one in the wrong. Her concern was valid. Her  _ anger _ was valid. Even if she tucked away everything to do with Valerie, she still didn’t like the person Axl made her out to be. 

Jill wasn’t one to raise her voice. She wasn’t one to insult and force out. 

Until last night, she’d hardly even been aware that she possessed such a tongue. The explosion took her by surprise almost as much as it seemed to him. 

But she was tired and deserted of all patience. She had tried her hardest to play the role of a good best friend. For  _ months _ , she tried. 

She still wanted to be that shoulder for Valerie. She still wanted to be the person that would offer up a couch to a person in need. Yet, he was just such an unbearable person that she was effectively whittled down into nothing but venom. Jill could no longer contain it simply because there was nothing else left to conceal it. 

The constant irritation and perpetual anxiety had drained her of her immediate kindness. Jill couldn’t lie, after all. She was cognizant of the notion that she morphed into a different person in their presence. 

She couldn’t see how to refute the change, either. 

He was selfish and reckless and utterly horrid to be around. He had rarely treated her with an ounce of respect, and when he actually did, it was painfully forced. It was obvious that, in his eyes, she was something to be taken advantage of. 

Jill felt that it was very well possible that she was angry at Valerie for that, too. Even if her best friend wasn’t doing anything wrong, per se, she didn’t ever stand up for her when  _ he _ did. It was mind-numbingly annoying, the way Valerie romanticized his god awful personality.

As far as Jill could tell, there was nothing remotely attractive about it. Nor was there anything he could possibly do to explain it. He was mean, simple as that. He was mean, bitterly short-tempered, and impulsive. It was everything Jill hated in a person. 

But she had tried her hardest to be accepting nonetheless.

In the time that she had known Valerie, Jill had never seen her feel so strongly about a person. Sure, there had been others. A revolving door of individuals that had filed in and out, though they had lasted no longer than a single night. For several reasons that Jill was hesitant to approach, Axl was different. Valerie was hanging onto him. 

And it angered Jill uncontrollably, because Val didn’t see what she saw. Jill had met Axl before she did. She had been to the boys’ shows before Valerie had even blown into this side of town. 

The way Axl casted aside conventional morality was one of the first things she had noticed about him; along with his persistent penchant to brush off women like they were worth no more than a single night’s motel fare. 

Women were a currency here. She would be ignorant to ignore that. But what also emerged directly from that knowledge was a lesson to avoid, at all costs, getting tied up inside the webs of the men who bartered in that realm. 

It was the precise reason Jill abstained from most thrills on the Strip. Whatever the personal poison was—be it sex, booze, or goddamn heroin—it didn’t matter. Once that piece of a person was exchanged, there was no getting it back. 

Valerie had given it away like it was nothing. As though she’d never had it begin with.

That scared Jill. 

To the very tips of her toes, it terrified her. 

Here, things were taken too far, too often. Jill had experienced it firsthand. She had watched the life bleed from the lives of countless individuals; their hair thinning and veins protruding. She had watched men go mad, shouting and wandering the back alleys aimlessly during all hours of the night. 

She didn’t  _ want _ to contemplate the idea of it happening to Valerie, but she couldn’t avoid it. 

It was a very real, increasingly tangible fear that she would come home one day and find her slumped over the edge of the bathtub, or maybe dead in her bed. 

So many things about the girl now flew under the radar that it was simply hard to predict what the cause of that might one day be. She didn’t care what Valerie had said regarding Axl’s resistance to her vices, he was still the only fucking reason the door was open to her in the first place. 

Nothing either of them said could mitigate her dread. He was going to cause harm to her that Jill wouldn’t be able to cure. He was going to destroy her, just like he did nearly everything else. 

Everything about this situation was so unbelievably messed up. 

An aching anxiety coiled in her body. Her chest was heavy. Any moment longer spent treading water in this torment and she’d break. 

Her toes tapped against the tile flooring as her thoughts drifted back to the destroyed jewelry box that sat on the bedroom floor. Sudden was the uncontrollable need to survey the damages. She was more than aware that it would be shattered beyond repair, but there had to be something salvageable in the wreckage. 

This wasn’t how it was meant to end.  _ Right _ ? 

After wiping the corners of her eyes with the blades of her palms, she reached up and tightened the ponytail against the nape of her neck. Then, she exhaled heavily and collected herself. She exited the kitchen swiftly and pulled her robe closer around her body. Shivers racked her body as she cut into Valerie’s room, the temperature drop causing goosebumps to hatch over her skin. 

The stark white walls still had a curious way of unnerving her. Jill, herself, had a muted off-white color, but there was something about the complete lack of paint that chilled her to the bone. There were scuff marks visible from the transport of furniture. There were divots from the posts of the headboard digging into the surface. 

At that, she rolled her eyes and looked away. 

It was after a series of teary, hard-won conversations shared during late nights that Jill had come to piece together why the room was the way it was. She understood why the walls were bare, why there were no fun trinkets scattered over the dresser, and why the few pieces of personalization Val  _ did _ have were so drained of color. But it still sat like a rock in her stomach.

Axl had thought that being privy to that information was something he could weaponize against Jill. He was so goddamn narcissistic to believe that he was the only person in her life that held any ounce of meaning. 

Before him, there was nobody who loathed Mary Anderson as much as she had. Valerie might have been cognizant of the impact of the trauma now, but Jill had been the one to guide her through everything when she had  _ not _ been. 

Axl didn’t even know that Jill had been the one to make it known to Val that it was trauma in the first place. 

He had no leverage here. And the fact that he had tried to levy it—that he had tried to compare Jill to her mother—disturbed her to the very base of her soul. Honestly, she had surprised herself by not going off on him then and there. 

Because, what he neglected to observe, was that she had fought tooth and nail to allow Valerie to grow comfortable in her own space. She had wanted so desperately to be a good enough friend to coax her into laying down roots. 

_ Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do! _

Like a ricocheting bullet, Valerie’s words pounded against the corners of her mind. It did not matter what Jill’s intentions were. She had failed. 

Sighing, she stepped over the tossed articles of clothing that were left scattered about and moved around the curve of the unmade bed. What she saw lying there at her feet was enough to break her heart clean in two. 

The jewelry box was absolutely demolished. Tiny slivers of soft-colored glass exploded over the wooden flooring like a firecracker. The metal wiring was dented, the two hinges scattered completely. 

Though, there was something else that stabbed her through the abdomen and robbed her of strength. It was a sight that sent her directly to her knees. 

They crashed against the hardwood without mercy, only narrowly avoiding the shards. She felt no pain, however. All she saw, all she  _ recognized _ , was the outline of the locket laying limp amongst the ruin. The sunlight glinted off its face, casting a sharp warmth onto the wall. 

Jill was hesitant to reach out. Her fingers brushed off the stray glass carefully before latching the body of it and pulling it towards her. The sobs returned, but they were hollow this time; tortured. She was running on completely empty, yet there was no other way her body knew how to react. Her mind was barely able to fathom the sheer sadness that gripped her senses. 

The piece fit snugly into her hand, the same way it had on the beach all those months ago. Her palms had been wet then, slick with cool ocean water, and the pendant had been covered in a thin film of grime from its time spent on the seafloor. 

Valerie had fawned over it when Jill extracted it. It had glittered beneath the soft, setting sun, swinging between the pair of them like a glamorous pendulant. There was so much shared between them that night that gifting it to her had only seemed like the natural progression of things. 

It hadn’t been the night that their friendship was established, but certainly when the deal had been sealed and closed tighter than the halves of the locket itself.

Her act of leaving the piece behind spoke volumes. She didn’t want the friendship anymore. What she didn’t discard, she was leaving for Jill to pick through. But there was nothing left to piece back together. Jill held both sides of it now. 

When Jill’s tears fell and splashed against the skin of her hands, it was as though she was transported back to then. There was a thick, overwhelming homesickness brewing in her chest. God, she just wanted to go back. She crumpled forward in misery. Everything was wrecked. Broken. 

Her stomach lurched as a brief knock interrupted her despair. 

_ Valerie _ ? 

She placed the locket gently on the ground before flying to her feet. Anticipation surged in her veins as she wiped her eyes. If Val hadn’t already changed her mind, she must have decided to give Jill an opportunity to explain her thoughts. This was a second chance and Jill jumped to take it. She wouldn’t fuck this up again. 

She knew that she probably looked a mess, but also that Valerie wouldn’t care. They were going to talk this through. They were going to make this work. 

Turning the knob, she pulled open the door. Her spirits hurdled towards the ground at lightning speed. 

It was only Izzy. 

_ Izzy _ ?

She quickly shoved loose pieces of hair behind her ears and sniffled. It sounded unbelievably weak and pathetic, utterly unable to be concealed. 

He didn’t seem to notice. Dressed in a tight pair of black jeans and an equally dark button down, he was the epitome of unstructured nonchalance. He looked past her, craning his neck to receive a deeper look into the apartment. 

“Hey,” He called, quietly. “Is Axl around?” 

Her scoff was derisive. She’d had no expectations. Outside of the group, she hadn’t spent too much time with Izzy. They hadn’t seemed to find any sort of common ground. There was no reason he’d be here for her. 

Nobody was ever here for her. 

“No,” She returned, letting go of the door and retreating further back into the apartment. “And he won’t be for a while.” 

To keep herself busy, she contemplated going to clean up the mess in Valerie’s room. She wasn’t coming back to fix things. There was no use in playing the part. 

“What about Val?” He questioned. 

Jill stared at him, unexpressive. “She’s gone, too.” 

“Shit.” He stated, his tone devoid of all enthusiasm. “What’d he do?” 

For some reason, that caught her so off-guard that the wind was knocked from her chest. “What?” 

She cringed at the sound of her voice. It was nasally and thick with emotion. 

To make matters worse, Izzy picked up on it. She groaned. It seemed as though she wasn’t meant to catch a break today. 

Lifting the dust pan from beside the trash can with one hand and grabbing the broom with the other, she gestured for Izzy to follow her. 

“Axl’s gone,” he observed, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. “What the fuck did he do? They fight again?” 

“There was a fight,” Jill confirmed, nodding weakly. “But it wasn’t between them—it was between us.” 

From behind his sunglasses, she could see his eyebrows raise. “All three of you?” 

“Him and I, last night.”

“Oh, fuck.” Izzy swore. 

“Then, this morning, Val and I.” Jill answered, feeling tears fill in along her waterline. 

How her body continued to produce them was completely lost on her. It felt as though her internal reservoir was all dried up. 

“Goddamn it, Axl.” Izzy huffed beneath his breath. He stood in the middle of the room like he’d never stepped foot in the apartment before. Jill could sense immediately that he wasn’t one that was comfortable with excessive displays of emotion. She was just barely holding it together. 

“It won’t last long. He’ll get over it. He always does.” He assured her.

Jill remembered the burning rage that had coated Axl’s features and laced his voice. Never had such malice ever been directed at her. Never had she felt so absolutely loathed. His temper was short but the effects of his anger were long-lasting. It was almost brutal in nature. 

Even if Axl did manage to let things go, Valerie wouldn’t. She was done. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t know about that one.” Jill answered truthfully. She walked past Valerie’s door frame and he followed. 

“Believe me,” He responded, tucking one of his hands into a back pocket of his jeans. “He’s a fuckin’ bitch who causes problems everywhere he goes, but he doesn’t have the attention span to uphold ‘em.” 

“I couldn’t care less about the bastard. It’s not about him, it’s Val. She’s—” The tears overflowed again. 

_ God fucking damn it _ . Jill turned away, raising the sleeve of her robe. It came away stained a red-pink. “She hates me now.”

Izzy shook his head marginally. “No, come on. That’s not true and you know it.” 

“It is.” Jill assured him. “She—She packed a bag and left. She’s not coming back.”

“She probably just needs space.” He reasoned. 

Jill nodded without listening. “And this?” 

Stepping back, she allowed him to take the sight in. The shards of glass were as they’d been left, twinkling beneath the rays of sunlight. The locket was only slightly off kilter, very obviously set aside. 

Izzy pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, frowning. “She did this?” 

The tears on her cheeks made the skin itchy, uncomfortable. “Right before she left. She’s done, Izzy. All she gives a damn about is Axl.” 

He tsked lightly. “That’s not—” 

“But it is!” She sobbed, digging the handle of the broom into her palm. “She’s pissed at me because I had the nerve to step up to him, but he treats me like shit and I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t do it!” 

The emotion gathered in her throat agonizingly. To maintain her dignity, she tried to compress it. She didn’t  _ really _ know Izzy, as it was. He was Axl’s bandmate before he was a friend of hers. He didn’t deserve to watch her break down.

But she couldn’t exactly help it, either. She had reached the end of her tether and the rope had frayed. Losing Val had been the final, unexpected straw. She was emotionally drained. It wasn’t fair that Izzy would bear the brunt of that, but she couldn’t restrain it any longer. In the grander scheme of things, he’d arrived when she was just on the brink of collapsing. 

Jill moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing the wrinkled duvet out of the way. “I’m not in a good place right now, Izzy, so it's probably best if you go. I can’t help you with Axl, I’ve got no clue where they went.” 

He shrugged. “You sit. Give me that.” 

He extended a hand for the dust-pan, his fingers outstretched and expectant. 

She pulled it closer to her chest. “It’s not your mess to clean up, I’ve got it.” 

“It’s not yours either.” He responded. Despite his quietness of his voice, it was still firm; stern. “Now let me have it.” 

Exasperated, she handed him the broom. He began by gathering the glass into several small piles, hardly able to see through the moisture in her eyes. For the past several minutes, it was as though she had been choking back one large block of emotion. It pressed against her throat painfully, begging for release. 

Jill placed her head into her hands. “I just don’t know how we let it get so far outta hand.” 

“It happens. The fact that you all were able to hold things together this long in the first place was surprising enough.” Izzy dragged the broom gently over the locket, nudging it out of the way. 

“I knew it wasn’t gonna last,” She replied, truthfully. “But I didn’t think it would ever get this bad.”

“So what’d he do?” He repeated, throwing his head over his shoulder. 

Jill dug her feet into the ground. “I was having a bad day yesterday, even before I got home. My manager sent me home because business was slow, and I was pissed that my pay would be cut. Because it’s not like I’m not already trying my hardest to make the money stretch—rent’s hard enough as it is, you know?” 

He nodded. 

“Then I get home to find him smoking. Or, at least, trying to hide that he had been.” She continued, peeling away the pieces of hair that had stuck to her face with tears. “And I know that it’s not a big deal to you guys, I understand that. But it had been the one thing I’d asked and seeing him defy it—I felt something snap.” 

Izzy knelt to the ground, holding out a hand for the dust-pan. “We may not see the point in it, but the least we can do is listen. He’s living with you. Of all people, he should have known that.” 

Giving it over to him, she sighed. “It’s not even just that, though. It was just supposed to be a civil conversation. But he was so goddamn dismissive that I lost it. We started yelling, saying things that we’ve both probably been thinking for months, and it got real ugly, real quick.” 

The fragile multi-colored pieces of glass were shoved into the blue plastic dust-pan without grace. The sound of them grounding against each other sent a powerful flinch throughout her entire body. Just like that, it was all put out of sight. 

But never out of mind. 

“When Valerie’s name came up, I knew I should have stepped back. It’s obvious that she’s always gonna be that source of contention between us. Yet, the things he said to me...I couldn’t let him get away with it.” 

She could still see his finger pointed at her, shaking with anger. His teeth had been bared and his face had been drenched red. Jill didn’t think it was wrong to label him absolutely terrifying at that moment. His rage, though mostly restrained, had such a potent streak of violence to it. 

Her restlessness had been the only thing that had prevented her from jumping down from the soapbox. She hadn’t wanted to step down from him. She hadn’t wanted to let him  _ win _ . 

And walking away from him would have been just that. 

Axl was a fighter. It was the only language he knew how to speak. Even if  _ she _ wasn’t, she knew how to read people. She had been able to sense almost immediately that the crowning jewel of the last word would have been the only way to get her point across. Driving the knife in and twisting it was the only way to get him off her back.

“He shouted that I was a manipulative, obsessed, whatever.  _ He’s _ the one that’s controlling her, he’s the one that won’t let her have a life outside of him. He’s the one that’s pretending to care. And I was right for saying something. I was.” 

Izzy’s shoulders tensed then. Jill’s eyes followed him as he raised his head from his task, as he looked up and out the window. “What was it that you said?” 

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“You said that he didn’t care—and that you told him that. What did you tell him exactly?” 

The glass that hadn’t been collected still glittered beneath the sunlight. The sight distracted her from absorbing his words promptly. 

“Uh,” She broke off, shaking her head and looking away. “I told him that he was using her. And that he wasn’t safe for her.” 

He placed the dust-pan down and turned to her. He was still crouched low to the ground, one of his hands gripping his thigh, the other grazing the floor and keeping him upright.

“Because he’s not.” She added, after a sudden anxiety at his movements bloomed in her chest.

She couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes from behind the thick guise of his shades, but the reproval etched onto his features was overwhelmingly evident. Her heart sank a little in her chest at the realization that Izzy would take Axl’s side, just as Valerie had. 

She didn’t even know what she had thought would happen. 

“Jill,” Izzy started, his voice level. She looked away, fixating on the left side of the bed. Where there should have been a pillow, the space was empty. Her resolve lessened slightly. 

“I don’t know the specifics of what happened. I don’t know what he did or said to you, either—even though I know there was something—but I  _ can _ tell you that you’re wrong on that one. Axl’s a fucking asshole and he sucks to be around, but whatever he says about her, he means it.” 

“He doesn’t fucking act like it.” She retorted. Beyond the kiss the two of them had shared at the concert, there was scarcely a positive memory she could bring to mind in relation to Valerie and Axl. 

All Jill could see was the sight of him storming out of Val's room all those mornings ago. All she could hear was the sound of Valerie’s strangled sobs after he’d hung up on her confession. 

That was back when she had tried everything to give him the benefit of the doubt. That was back when she had painstakingly forced herself to assume that she didn’t have all the pieces to the puzzle; that whatever existed between the two of them was just so intricately knotted that nothing would soothe the ache like time.

But time had passed now and she was still yet to experience anything of substance. There were two ends of the spectrum that they never strayed from. If they weren’t holed up in her room all morning, they were splayed out all night in the club. There was no room in that environment for any sort of real emotion, any depth. 

As far as Jill could tell, it was just a cycle of Valerie giving herself away. Either to Axl or to the vices, it no longer mattered. The two had long past become synonymous.

“He’s always had a hard time showing much of anything. Ten plus years of knowing him will get you that.” Izzy assured her. “But you also don’t know him as well as I do, so I get that it’s a tricky concept to wrap your head around.” 

“Val said the same thing.” She huffed in annoyance.“It doesn’t matter if he cares for her or not, he’s still not a good influence.” 

Her tone was scathing, but she didn’t care.

“Yeah, well, neither am I. Neither is anybody else within a damn five mile radius. I don’t know Valerie as well as you do, either, but I still trust that there’s something about her that’s got him tied up, too. I’ve never seen him act like this before. He’s fuckin’ crazy about her.” 

“Fine.” Jill balled her hands into fists. “Say he does love her, or even feels just a fraction of that—” 

“He does.” Izzy interrupted. 

“Say he  _ does _ ,” She repeated, still not looking at him. “It still doesn’t mean that he isn’t inherently bad for her or he won’t ruin her in the long run.” 

“I know.” He exhaled heavily. “He’s not stable, you’re right about that.”

“See?” Jill replied, sounding slightly brittle. “Even you can’t deny it. Why can’t  _ she _ see it?” 

“Just because I can’t ignore that he’s got issues doesn’t mean I think he’s bad for her. He’s trying his fucking best with her, Jill.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t fucking buy it.” 

Valerie’s sobs crept back in. If she concentrated hard enough, Jill could still feel the other girl’s phantom tears seeping into her shirt sleeve.

“I’m serious.” He remarked. His tone had gone cold. 

She shook her head, turning up her nose. 

He promptly stood up, abandoning the mess on the floor. Before she could even register his movements, Izzy had fallen down beside her on the bed. 

“Listen, I know they haven’t made it easy. And, damn, I’m fuckin’ sure they’re hell to live with, too. But it’s clear that you’re an extremely stubborn person.”

Her head whipped around, her expression affronted. 

“Normally, I’d respect it, by the way. Dig it, even. Whatever. But I also don’t think it was fair of you to lash out at him for something you’re not even fuckin’ sure of. You told me yourself that it was taken too far. You knew what you said was harsh, so I don’t think you can be too surprised that they bit back.” 

“I—” Jill was gobsmacked, rendered utterly speechless. Any rebuttal died immediately in her throat. 

“You knew he had a temper, and, on top of that, you know what Valerie feels for him. Now, I’m not saying you were wrong for saying  _ something _ , but I still think that what you said caused fuckin’ damage. You can’t ignore that.” 

Out of all the confrontation that she’d experience in the span of the last twelve hours, she felt this one on the deepest level. His words scraped down into her guts and splintered her bones. She experienced chills all over, her nerve endings rubbed raw. 

“And I can tell by the way you’re taking this so badly that you’re not.” Izzy boasted. “Ignoring it, I mean. I know you agree with what I’m saying.” 

Jill shoved down the emotion and met his gaze. She bit down on her tongue. “I’m not handling anything wrong.” 

He tilted his head back. “Alright.” 

“What?” Jill demanded in confusion. She was so overwhelmed that she couldn’t keep the annoyance from flaring into her tone. Goddamn him for reading her so well. 

“I’ll let you say what you want. I know you don’t think that.” 

A brief scowl crept up, before it was washed away by acceptance. He was entirely correct. There was no way around that. 

But she didn’t justify him with a response, either, so she let the room drift into a cool, uneasy silence. 

Of course she knew that what she said was too harsh. Jill had never doubted that for a moment. What it came down to was the fact that she had managed to assert to herself that what she’d said was still just; deserved.

The contorted look of pain on Axl’s face flashed back into view. She cringed. 

_ Was it even just?  _

Her certainty was fading fast. Izzy’s sharpness had pierced right through her resolve. Anguish flooded her veins then, tinged dark with regret. 

There was a hot heat that covered her face and dripped down her neck, staining her skin a warm crimson. It was composed of a cruel mix of guilt and pure humiliation. 

He sighed, and before she had time to let everything bleed from her, he was speaking again. 

“Trust me, Jill.” His voice was back to its detached, soothing tone. “He wasn’t always this fuckin’ unberable.”

“No offense, but there’s probably nothing you could say to convince me of that.” 

Jill believed that Axl had the sort of personality that was rotten to the very core. 

“Back in school, he and I were in a band together.” Izzy started. “Just some shitty high school start-up thing that wasn’t going anywhere, you know how it is.” 

She nodded slightly, feeling a weight begin to lift off her chest. It was obvious that he was just trying to make her feel better after ripping her apart so acutely, but perhaps that was simply what she needed. 

“And once I actually got him to join the stupid thing, it took me fuckin’ forever just to convice him to pick up the goddamn mic.” He chuckled quietly to himself. “Even then, there were days that he’d just stand there, look around for five minutes, and then fucking ditch.” 

Her eyebrows crawled up to her hairline. “Absolutely not.” 

“Don’t believe me?”

Jill shrugged. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Her tone was incredulous. 

“Because I need you to know that he’s not half the shit that he makes himself out to be.” He responded plainly. “And that he’s also less than half of the shit that everybody else makes him out to be, too.” 

Jill’s smile flickered slightly. Oh. 

“God,” Izzy continued, despite that she never officially responded to him. “He was so flighty back then. He was a church choir boy trying desperately to fit onto the scene.” 

A startled laugh erupted in her throat. Axl, a  _ church _ boy? 

Sure, she’d seen the giant silver cross that he carted around his neck, but she assumed that it was purely for imagery purposes. She’d never seen somebody so very obviously injected with the fucking devil. 

“ _ No. _ ” 

“He hadn’t found his niche yet, but I always knew he was going to.” Izzy explained. As he spoke, he pushed his sunglasses up into his shaggy hair. His eyes were wide and perceiving; completely sober. Jill felt something slip within her.

It was arguably the most alive she’d ever seen him. She was barely even able to recall a time in which she’d heard him speak so much, growing so used to him always sitting tucked away in the back corner; consistently halfway to knocked-out cold. 

It wasn’t even until this precise moment in time that she learned his eyes were hazel, too. 

And it felt like it did every time she looked to those with darker eyes like hers. It was an immense comfort. 

Though she supposed it wasn’t even  _ that _ personal. Perhaps dark-eyes people just found comfort in other dark-eyed people. That was the way it had always seemed to be. 

For her, it was a place to come home to and rest after being gutted so thoroughly from the muted, harsh green of Axl’s eyes; after being torn to shreds by the cool, detached silver of Valerie’s. It was a gaze full of warmth and familiarity; constituting the first time that somebody had looked at her with something other than severe judgment in days.

Other than the brief interludes of time she had spent with Slash, she supposed that she hadn’t felt the joys of simple friendship in weeks. As it was, she could no longer ignore how she and Valerie had been drifting apart recently, no matter if it was at a glacial pace.

When Izzy looked out the window, his eyes were hit by the soft rays of the sun. The irises turned rapidly to a rich olive, the soft brown halo in the center branching out like the rings of an ancient tree stump. It was  _ definitely _ comfort that draped over her shoulders. Everyone had always told her that her eyes held that same whiskey shade, just all over. 

She cleared her throat. “You talk about him with such care. Why? It seems to me that he puts you through hell.” 

“He’s not like this for nothing.” He responded, looking back at her. Then, he gestured with his head to the room surrounding. “The two of them are a lot alike in that sense.”

And he didn’t have to specify, because Jill knew precisely what he was alluding to. 

“Oh, God.” She felt the missing piece click into place, the one she had been searching desperately for. 

Shared pain. 

That was their connection. 

That was their tether. 

Unfaltering, Izzy carried on. “First time I fuckin’ saw the bastard was some time in my early teens. I was walking to whatever goddamn class I had—not that I was passing any of ‘em—and the hallway explodes into this fucking sonic boom of noise.”

He glanced over as he talked, smiling slightly. 

“I look over and there he is, after having slammed his locker and thrown his books to the ground, sprinting away from a batshit crazy math teacher.” 

Again, the anxiety lightened up somewhat.  _ That _ sounded more like the Axl she knew.

“He blasts past me and is gone, out the door, hiding God knows where. Teachers, kids, everybody—they were all chasin’ after him. He just didn’t give a fuck. Even then, he didn’t.”

Painfully, rage and hurt still smoldered. But she couldn’t keep down a smile. If Izzy caught it, he ignored it. 

“That was my first impression of him.” He exacted. “It was the day I learned that he had fuckin’ balls, but that he was also always gonna be a disaster to deal with.”

He looked down at her now.

“Don’t feel bad that he made you upset.” Izzy consoled. There was a steady smirk frozen into place on his face. “He has that effect on everyone. Trust me, he knows it.” 

“I shouldn’t have said any of those things, oh God.” Jill mumbled, rubbing a hand over her face. She had crashed from the overconfidence, her conscious kicking in. 

He shifted closer to her, but remained cognizant of her personal space. As somebody who dealt comfort out in droves, she could sense when other people were out of their depth. Another wave of guilt crashed over her for dragging him into this. 

“Probably not.” Izzy acknowledged. “But you did, and he’ll get over it. He can’t afford to take things like that to heart.”

“Valerie won’t get over it.” Jill replied, biting down hard on her lip. It was the only thing she could do to keep the tears at bay. “He means the world to her, Izzy. I can’t believe I let it get that fucked up.” 

He shrugged again. “Same thing applies. If she’s gonna be his girl, she’s gotta learn that not everybody’s gonna love him like she does.” 

“But I’m her best friend.” She stated, disregarding the potential need for past tense. “I should be making more of an effort to— _ tolerate _ —him because of that. Right?” 

Izzy pursed his lips in contemplation. “I think what you’ve done for him is more than enough.” 

“What about—” 

“My point still stands that you might have been the one to take things too far, but it doesn’t erase the fact that they’re still guilty, too. It took three of y’all to get into this fucked up mess, it should take three to get out of it.” Izzy reasoned. 

His pale hands stuck out in a stark contrast against his black jeans. His fingers were thin, laced with nearly reflective cool blue veins. The skin looked cold. 

Jill shook her head. “I don’t like the way you think that they’ll be talking to me anytime soon.” 

“Yeah, maybe not.” He chuckled, one side of his mouth lifting higher than the other. “Maybe that’s what you all need, though. Space. Let them figure out whatever the fuck they think they’re doing and when they realize the money will run out in less than a few weeks...they’ll be back.  _ She _ will be back.” 

She didn’t know if she could wait those few weeks, though. Jill supposed she could go the rest of her life never seeing Axl’s face again, but not if it meant she would never again witness the curve of Valerie’s smile or the grit of her voice. It simply wasn’t worth it. 

She didn’t care if living with him was akin to dragging her feet across hot coals. If they found a way to work this through, she’d make the sacrifice. Things would have to change, of course, but the root of it all could stay the same. 

Briefly, Jill lamented not realizing this sooner. She wondered how much suffering might have been spared by a conversation that was kept civil. She was desperate to know the amount of heartbreak that would have been avoided if she had just approached Valerie first. 

“But what if this is it?” She asked. It wasn’t directed to Izzy in particular, but rather, to the unknown; to the thin skeleton of a room that surrounded her. Now that Valerie had deserted it, it was completely barren. 

“I’m not even gonna entertain that thought.” Izzy replied, moving to stand up. “I’ll drag her back by her hair myself. Where else are we supposed to go?” 

Jill laughed, the smile straining her cheeks. “You could always get a place for yourselves.” 

“We’d be evicted in a week.” He deadpanned. 

“You’re right, that was a bit generous of me.” She joked, simultaneously rising to her feet.

“At least let us get the fuckin’ EP out.” Izzy remarked, then looked down at the destroyed jewelry box once more. “What do you wanna do about this?” 

“Leave it,” Jill answered. “I’ll pick it up later, I’m not worried.” 

He shrugged again, walking off. 

She spared one last look at the glass shards, half of which were tucked away in the forgotten dust pan. The locket sat pushed away, neglected. 

Without thinking too much, Jill stepped over it and followed Izzy through the doorway.

He didn’t make his way to the front door like she expected him to. Instead, he wandered over to the couch and sat himself down. Slouching, he spread his legs and placed his hands in his lap. She stared at him openly, waiting for explanation. 

“You mind if I take a nap on your couch?” Izzy asked. 

“Looks like you’ve already made yourself at home.” 

He dropped his hazy smirk to yawn, dark pieces of hair coming to fall over his face. 

She looked to the clock on the kitchen wall. “It’s eight a.m.” 

“A healthy sleeping schedule isn’t a universal thing, Jill.” He retorted, bringing his shades back down to rest over his eyes. 

“Fine, yeah.” Jill accepted, sighing. “I’ve got errands to run, anyways, so I’m gonna hop in the shower.” 

“Sounds good.” drawled Izzy. He moved to lay on his side, raising his feet to rest on the other end of the sofa. Beneath his head were a stack of decorative throw pillows. 

She smiled slightly, pleased at the thought of at least somebody finding comfort here. 

“Well,” Jill mumbled. “Goodnight, I guess.”

He grumbled something incoherent, but didn’t grace her with a proper response. His current sobriety must have cost him the ability to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. 

Though she guessed that it was also quite logical to assume that he might not have slept at all yet. Everything about him indicated that he was a creature of the night. 

Jill turned away and made her way towards her room. She actually did have quite a few tasks to achieve today and she preferred to go when the stores were quiet. Shopping for one instead of three was going to be odd, given that hadn’t done that since February, but she tried to keep what Izzy had said in mind. 

Maybe space and time was just something that they all needed. A little breathing room to recollect their thoughts and sort out their feelings. Jill was a patient woman, and if it meant she could regain Valerie’s good graces, she would wait as long as she needed to.

The mess on Valerie’s bedroom floor would also have to wait, too. It wasn’t going anywhere. Even if the jewelry box was utterly demolished, the locket remained unaffected. That had been the true artifact of their friendship, anyways. It was still whole, just temporarily discarded; set aside. 

Jill didn’t care that these thoughts mostly served to bring her peace of mind, because they brought her hope, too. She knew, deep down, that this wasn’t how their friendship was destined to fall apart. 

Not after back then, on that night at the beach, they had both promised it never would. 


	18. slow life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last of the saturday updates! 
> 
> as of wednesday, the chapter postings will be in sync with wattpad + they will be on the same weekly update schedules <3 
> 
> much love !

_ Wednesday, October 8th, 1986. _

She woke up sometime in the late afternoon. 

Roughly, she estimated it to be around half past three, but the alarm clock was nowhere to be seen, no doubt knocked to the ground by Axl at some point in the middle of the night after he’d grown tired of the glaring red digits. 

When she opened her eyes, her eyelashes brushed against his collarbone and she found her face tucked into his chest. His arm was thrown over her body, holding her close. He smelled distinctly of the mint shampoo they’d been using for the past few days. 

He smelled clean. 

He was warm, too, her cheek laid up against his soft skin. The thin quilt was pulled up tight around them, shielding most of the daylight from reaching her. She was swaddled in an inexplicable comfort that knotted in her stomach almost as intricately as their limbs were woven together. 

Valerie had not yet grown used to waking up beside him, and she didn’t know if she ever would. 

She didn’t think there was a way possible for her to adjust to the feeling of such complete contentment; of such pure bliss. All she knew was that she never again wanted there to be morning where she woke up without him. 

If she could, she thought she could lay here with him forever. It was warm and secure here. Everything about this was new and good.

Yet, she had things to do today. Over her shift last night, she had discussed with him the idea of going back to the apartment and picking up anything they needed. It was Wednesday now, and they’d been living out of the motel for a handful of days. 

It was going seamlessly, all things considered. Valerie was increasingly growing certain of the idea that they were going to make things work, no matter how scraped-up they happened to be. 

She missed the little things about having a more permanent residence, though; the things that hadn’t manifested in her mind when she had been piecing together the basic necessities. She missed her cassette player and her nail polishes, her perfume and her pillow. 

Even if she  _ could _ go without them, she didn’t see any reason why she had to. 

As far as she was concerned, they were stuck here for the time being. Valerie had made no plans to reconcile with Jill, and thus, hadn’t even approached the concept of moving back in. 

Her anger wasn’t as consuming anymore, but she still didn’t like to think about it. There was too much hurt simmering beneath that she was hesitant to uncover. Valerie assumed it was best if she just slipped in, took what she needed, and left. 

It was already a huge chance that she’d encounter Jill during the task. Taking the time to unpack how she felt about the situation would only make that possibility more explosive. It was best left repressed for now. 

But, then again, if it was almost guaranteed that she would run into Jill, perhaps she had no need to rush. Valerie could stay in bed for a little while longer.

Smiling, she pulled her head out from beneath his chin. She was sharing his pillow again, like she always seemed to do, and both of their bodies were pushed to the left side of the bed. Val invaded his space completely, but he didn’t seem to mind. Rather, most nights, he invited her in. 

She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, moving higher and higher until she reached the edge of his jaw. He shifted slightly, working the curve of the bone against her lips and when she looked up at him, he had one bleary eye half-open. The green of the iris was muted and soft. Valerie kissed his chin. 

Axl didn’t move, letting Valerie do as she pleased. The hand that was resting on his hip she ran up the side of his ribcage, then brought up to his face to push away the hair that spilled over it. The red strands were soft and tangled, cloaking his vision and giving him a boyish glint. On his face was a gentle, swooping smile. He looked as nearly at peace as she felt. 

Valerie continued on her way, pushing her body up until she was nearly cradling him. Her kiss fit perfectly on the tip of his nose. 

As her fingers skated over the soft skin of his cheek, her thumb grazed his lip. When he chuckled, she felt the delicate exhale of the air fan against her palm. 

Eventually, he inclined his head to capture her mouth with his. Valerie’s hand found the back of his head blindly, drawing him to her. Everything about his movements were tame and drowsy. His breathing was still heavy with sleep. 

Their foreheads knocked lightly and she pulled back. It was more difficult to smile in the morning, her cheeks straining uncomfortably when her dried lips stretched, but there was no way to smother the giddiness that lurked within her insides like molten gold.

That’s all waking up next to him was; happiness. 

Valerie liked that he was softer here. She treasured the way his hands molded around her with grace. There was no chaos lacing his actions, no pulsating brutality. And it was probably because he was so far removed from the world, which had beat him down and pressured him into hardening, that allowed him the comfort—but she tried to not think of that. 

She tried her hardest, instead, to take him for how he wanted to be seen in her eyes; a man worthy of love, affection, and everything good. 

Though, it was nearly always a harsh challenge because the damage was difficult to ignore. No matter how hard he worked to conceal it, the wounds were still there. Humanity had not been kind to him. Whether or not he wore the pain like a shield, the bleeding underneath was still present. 

He wasn’t bulletproof. 

He was just a man. 

A hurting one, at that.

Valerie felt his ache leak into her when he held her like this. He was so desperately trying to prove to her that he was capable of giving away a love that was quite possibly more delicate than anything her hands could bear to touch. 

Even now, the sensation of his body trying to heal itself after years and years of mistreatment was palpable, creeping over her skin like coiling ivy. The process was going to be long and arduous—and potentially eternally unfinished—but she recognized that. She still wanted to be the holder of his pain anyway, just as he was begging to be the holder of hers. 

In that precise moment, she could feel the rage in Axl’s chest when she was settled up against it. Her hand left his hair and shifted to rest over his heart, fingers curling and mapping out every note of its beat. 

That anger was always there, usually just directionless in aim. It was trapped like a prisoner between his lungs purely because it had nowhere else to go. She could hear it rattle in his chest when he inhaled. 

Valerie understood that. Sometime long ago, something within her had frozen, too. She didn’t know what it was, and she didn’t want to go digging for it, but it didn’t erase its presence. For as far back as she could remember, there had always been something shattered in her; something completely destroyed. The wholeness was gone, stolen before she could part with it on her own time. 

Maybe it had broken the night she had slammed the trailer door in her mother’s face. 

Because, unsurprisingly, her mother hadn’t cried that night. In fact, she’d barely even left her spot in the corner of the holed-out sitting space. 

Valerie had dragged her clothes from the closet, body vibrating in pain, and spat that she was never coming back. Her mother had merely blinked before uttering a word that haunted Valerie’s nightmares to this day. 

_ Good. _

Or maybe it was the evening that her father had packed his own suitcase and never looked back. His actions mirrored Valerie’s later ones, almost to the single, most minute detail—except her mother had been yelling then. She had cared that time. 

Valerie had grabbed at her father’s leg, grappling for any sort of a hold on him, and her throat had run itself raw screaming, pleading for him to stay; if not for her mother, then for her. It was fucking fruitless. He shook her off, kissed her head, and left anyway. 

_ I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve got to go. _

But it also very well could have been the first day she had let Danny trail his hand up her skirt. She could still feel his calloused fingers and clipped nails roaming the unmarred flesh of her thigh, his laugh hot in her ear even after she’d batted him away. 

What it had led to had been even worse—four years of repeatedly giving up something she hadn’t been ready to give. He ravaged and robbed, his metaphorical hold on her harsher than the way he’d forced his hand between her knees. 

_ Come on, angel, for me? You know I’ll make you feel so good. _

Even the morning she’d hurdled Jill’s jewelry box to the bedroom floor, when the shards of glass had exploded around her and pelted the thick denim of her jeans before falling to the ground weakly. 

Days later, Valerie had only just begun to regret it. It was a definite final breaking point. 

_ I don’t care, Val. He deserved it _ . 

Maybe each of these had just chipped away further at her, sending blow after blow to her core; weakening her, breaking her. The pain in her chest was heavy, just like his. 

She suspected that moments like those would just keep coming, too. 

(Though she had made peace with that. Valerie was sure that, one day, there would finally be nothing left for them to break.)

And she wanted so incurably to absolve him of the anger, as well. She didn’t want him to hurt any longer. 

The sharpness of his tongue was striking when it slid against hers. His anguish was always present in his words. It shone through his lyrics and drained from him in hushed tones when he lay next to her at night. It was another thing he weaponized, to deflect the attack of the world outwards. Valerie had trained herself to see right through it. 

She could feel the depravity in the tips of his fingers when he grabbed the crescent of her hip and dug into it. He was as graceful as a fucking molotov cocktail, eager to devour what he could. The tenderness boiled down into something wild and hungry. 

Latching onto her thigh, Axl pulled it up over his leg before deepening the kiss. His fingers were perilously close to the waistband of her underwear; a touch away from the soft white lace laying on the swell of her hip. 

Valerie disconnected and leaned back, laughing softly. “You’re so fuckin’ insatiable.” 

He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her upper lip.

“Can’t help it.” He fell back onto the pillows with a hefty sigh. “You’re kind’ve addicting.” 

His voice was rough from disuse, the grittiness rushing against her like the tide over a rocky shore. It was always deeper when he just woke up, too, a fact that did absolutely nothing to calm her haywire insides. 

“Sounds like a you problem.” She responded, lifting her arms to shift her hair away from her face. 

She saw the charm of his face fully now; completed by the slight slope of his nose and subtle bite of his smirk. It was undeniably maddening, to love a man as beautiful as him. 

Axl bent towards her, his nose brushing her cheek. “Oh, it is. But that also makes it  _ your _ problem.” 

Valerie rolled her eyes as his hand found her ribcage. The arch of his thumb fit into the slight hollow, holding her tight. His palm, heavy and protective, covering her fully. Every ounce of his touch was safe.

She kissed him again. This time it was laced with a determination; a fire. It  _ was _ her problem, and it was one she was fucking glad to have. 

The grip on her thigh tightened before it moved up to clutch her hip. His rings dug into the skin it found, singeing as he left his mark on the flesh. It didn’t matter if she tried to take control, nothing could lessen the absolute appetite that consumed the way he took hold of her. 

So she surrendered, falling pliant. He took the cue and rolled her body beneath his, the sheets shifting as he resettled between her thighs. Valerie knew that they had things to do today, but she was powerless to walk away from him. It was too late now. She was too far into it. 

Perhaps just a little bit longer. Then, she’d break away.

Her hands found his hair, fingers knotting into the strands. His lips were pressing hard enough to bruise and, every once in a while, she’d take his bottom lip into her mouth when he’d break away for air. His breath was soft on her face, every individual heave of his chest grazing directly against hers. 

Valerie adored the way the sharp edges of his pelvis slashed up the skin of her waist. It was a constant, drilling reminder of his presence: a perpetual indication of how troublingly intoxicating the feeling of his body atop hers had become. 

The hand that wasn’t keeping her leg pinned over his hip snuck up under the baggy fabric of her t-shirt. It roamed wildly, skating over the flat of her stomach before settling over the curve of her breast. 

His mouth didn’t falter as his fingers moved deftly. The cusp of his thumb slid across her nipple and she felt the blood rush to it erratically, hardening it. Even closer, she felt the smile bloom across his face against her lips. 

She didn’t know what drove her crazier; the fact that Axl actually  _ could _ get her body to respond in this way or the fact that he did and was painstakingly aware of it. It wasn’t arrogance that dominated his features, but certainly pride. A dangerous, maddening pride. 

There was something so different and so fucking wicked about the way everything felt with him. 

This wasn’t the way she’d known things to be. 

His thumb continued its task, circling the bud at a lazy pace. Languidly, she tipped her head further back into his pillow, exposing the flesh of her neck. His kiss was redirected urgently, and seared a hot trail as his teeth scraped against the column of her throat. 

A breathy moan fled from her. All of her senses were tingling with excitement, the previous drowsiness drying up. Valerie was awake now and all she saw—all she felt—was him. He plagued her mind, drowning her body. 

He lifted away from her neck and let go of her thigh to tip her chin down. She met his gaze, eyes wide and mouth ajar, only to find that his expression was curiously devilish. It sent a violent flutter through her stomach. 

The energy between them was electric, enough so that she could practically hear the crackle of static. Valerie traced the outline of his lips with her eyes, scoping out the gentle, swollen cupid’s bow. 

And then, before she could question why he had pulled her down from cloud nine, his hand shifted rapidly. He took the other nipple and pinched it,  _ hard _ . 

Her head flew back on instinct, her eyes squeezing shut. The groan that spilled from her was absolutely unholy. 

“Oh, you fucker!” 

A belated sense of understanding materialized.  _ That _ was why. 

Axl had wanted to watch the reaction unfold across her face. The sick bastard. 

She looked back down and pulled his mouth to hers roughly, teeth clashing. It was animalistic now, the sleepy gentleness long gone. 

There was no way she’d be able to leave this bed today if she didn’t untangle herself from his confines now.

Valerie sliced her fingers on his cheekbones, her lips sore. She was hyper-aware of every sensation that was flickering through her body. 

In every sense of the concept, Axl was the antithesis of novacaine. He ripped her nerves open and set them alight. 

That was another thing she wasn’t used to; feeling so acutely. So greatly. 

She pushed off his lips, craning her head to the side. Her shoulder cushioned his abrupt fall forward. 

“What— _ Jesus _ , Val.” 

“I’ve gotta go back to the apartment before Jill gets back.” She whispered, wrapping her hand around the back of his head and holding him to her. 

Axl’s forehead bit into her collarbone and his breath, hot and frantic, sent goosebumps erupting over her skin. His hand was still slipped tight under her shirt, but had halted in its movements. 

When he groaned, she felt it climb down her spine. “Come on, we’ll make it quick.” 

While he spoke, he took the opportunity to attach onto her neck, biting down. The skin there was already covered in a tapestry of violet florets. She wasn’t sure how he was still finding space. 

Valerie laughed. “You never make it quick.” 

He looked up, a naughty glint in his eye. “Most girls want that sort of thing, you know.” 

Oh, she wasn’t insulting it. Not even close. His stamina was, by far, one of the most attractive things about sleeping with him. 

Danny had almost always fallen asleep immediately after he came. It had been like clockwork; wholly predictable. 

She could still feel his body crushing her like a dead weight. With disgust, she remembered all of the times he hadn’t even found the strength to pull out before he collapsed. 

Internally, Valerie shivered. She had noticed something weird in the recent weeks. Ever since she had first talked about Danny with Axl—that night in her truck—the man had gradually begun to reinsert himself into her conscious thoughts. 

To the further extent of the word, the realization haunted her.

She had just fucking managed to stomp him out. 

A wave of nausea curled up her body and Valerie shifted her focus rapidly back to Axl. He was still smirking down at her.

“Isn’t this where you tell me you’re not most girls?” 

“It’s not that.” She replied softly. Her mood had very suddenly turned sour. “It’s that I’m really trying my hardest not to run into her on my way over.” 

She was very well aware of the fact that she would most likely encounter Jill on her way over, but he wasn’t questioning it. Valerie had to lie, it was the only way to quench the tendrils of panic that were encroaching. 

Axl’s hand had taken to caressing her side idly. “Would it make it easier if I went with you?” 

“Absolutely not.” She responded and watched a visible wave of relief crash over his features. “I should be in and out in ten minutes, but on the off-chance that she’s there...I don’t need a rehashing of this. I’m over it.” 

He nodded and bent down to kiss her once more. It was dimmer, but lingering. 

After he disconnected, she pushed one of his shoulders lightly and he sighed, rolling off of her and flopping onto the mattress. She sat up quickly and looked over at him. 

“You act like you didn’t keep me up this morning.”

He shrugged. “You weren’t complaining were you?” 

She most definitely had  _ not _ been. 

“Anyway, what’s that saying?” Axl’s peeked out from under the hand that covered his face, his bracelets rattling. “New days bring new issues?”

“That’s not a saying.” She replied, throwing her legs over the bed and standing up. “And it’s not a new day. That was, like, eight hours ago.” 

The fabric of her t-shirt—which was actually one of his—fell down to cover most of her thighs. She didn’t allow herself to look back, heading straight for the closet. It seemed that pushing herself into the necessary steps would be the only way she’d accomplish any sort of routine. 

“Whatever, now I’ve gotta fuckin’ deal with this.” 

She didn’t have to look back to know what he was referencing. Valerie exhaled and grabbed a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt. 

Then, an idea struck. 

“Alright, you leave me alone to get ready and I’ll suck your dick afterward. Deal?”

He groaned. She could hear him dragging his hands over his face. “And listen to you bitch about fuckin’ up your make-up? Hell no.” 

“That’ll only happen if you do it right.” She challenged, throwing her head over her shoulder and winking. 

A choking sound lodged itself in his throat.

She’d only said it because she knew he would.

If there was anything he could do, it was fuck her throat. The tight grip of his hands in her hair, pulling hard, never strayed too far from her thoughts, really. Nor did the sight of him above her, his lips releasing stuttered trails of murmured obscenities and encouragement, as her knees were burrowed into the ground and her hands were wrapped around his thighs.

_ Fuck _ . She was beginning to regret her own hastiness. 

Valerie removed her shirt, throwing it into the ever-growing pile of dirty laundry that was gathered in the corner of the room. She was very much aware that she was making this harder for him, and it was a feat that she revelled in. 

“You’re evil.” Axl drawled, confirming her suspicions. His eyes were on her, charting her silhouette violently. 

She smiled to herself, forcefully working to mentally engrain that they’d have all the time in the world after she got home. Her shift didn’t start until eleven tonight, and if she  _ did _ happen to bump into Jill, she’d need all the pick-me-ups she could get. 

She threw out a quick  _ I know! _ before roaming into the bathroom and closing the door shut behind her. 

* * *

Valerie considered herself the luckiest girl on the planet when she arrived at the apartment and found it empty. 

She didn’t know where Jill was, and she didn’t really care, either. All she acknowledged was that her absence would make this process infinitely easier. 

She didn’t waste time. 

The apartment looked the same as it had when she’d left it Friday morning, just overly straightened-up. Jill had always been a bit of a clean freak, though, and Valerie briefly wondered how much she and Axl had thrown that out of whack by living there. 

There was an extra cardboard box tucked away in the back of her closet, a remainder from when she had moved in eight months previously. It was big, and therefore would be a struggle to wrangle into the bed of her truck, but it would definitely fit everything Valerie had in mind to pack. 

First and foremost, it was clothing. Though she had managed to pack the entirety of Axl’s wardrobe within the duffel bag, her own supply was running low. The seasons were changing, as it was, and it was getting colder. Val could no longer get away with shorts and a sweatshirt as successfully as she could just a week ago. 

So she folded several pairs of jeans and lined them along the bottom. Warmer pajamas, too. She didn’t own many sweaters, the entirety of her collection fitting alongside the pants. Then, she threw in a pair of boots and her thickest jacket and called it a day. 

It very well could have been overpacking, but above all, she wanted to avoid making a second trip. This was the only space of time she was allotting herself for now. If this situation became as permanent as she felt in might, only then would she come back; to pack all of her things for good. 

The concept in itself was difficult enough to think about, so Valerie shook her head and stepped away from the closet. She didn’t want to consider that, no matter how fucking upset she still felt. 

Next into the box went her walkman and a handful of her favorite tapes. Having to leave a majority of them behind was inconvenient, but she hadn’t the space. 

Yet, positively, that one box worked out when she realized that she’d never had that many possessions in the first place. There were no odd trinkets that she would miss, nor any clutter she would sense the vacancy of. 

Quickly, she was almost thankful of the fact that  _ she _ had been the one to walk out. Jill had too much here to do so. Her roots ran too deep into the soil of this place to give it up like it was nothing.

Well, that wasn’t true. That wasn’t how Valerie felt about it. This apartment wasn’t nothing. And there was still a sharp, persistent pain that sat right beneath her heart at the prospect of leaving it. Even after living with her aunt for nearly two years, it was unmistakably here that Valerie first experienced the sense of having a home. 

She wasn’t ready to let that go, not by a longshot, but she had to. Valerie was so tired of being held down.

To her, freedom was more important than stability. That had always been the calling, the one that had materialized when she’d made it out of Missouri alive. Jill hadn’t respected it, and that was why abandoning what Valerie knew here wasn’t impossible. 

She sighed. She would run for as long as it took. Because, eventually, she’d find whatever it was she was looking for. 

Valerie meant to pick through her jewelry box next, but was struck with a frightening realization. For a moment, the fact that she had reduced it to nothing had slipped her mind. 

Slowly, she tip-toed around her bed, afraid to survey the damage. She hadn’t been able to take things in fully after she had thrown it. Her mind had been too fired-up then. She’d only been seeing red. 

But there wasn’t anything there to see. There was no glass scattered. The floor was spotless. Jill must have come in some time over the course of the few days and cleaned it up. 

If anything, she supposed it looked cleaner than it did when she had inhabited the space. 

Valerie took the time to sweep her eyes over her room. 

Yes, Jill had definitely been in here. 

It looked as though it had been recently dusted. The bed had definitely been made, as well. And even if Valerie had done it before she left—on the off-chance that she actually remembered to do so—nobody had the skill to pull the sheets as tight as the other girl could. Her hand here was unmissable. 

Something in her chest depressed at the sight of it. With the exception of the torn apart closet, the room looked utterly empty. Even the vase of wilting flowers that had sat on the tall dresser had been taken care of. 

Jill was giving her up, just as Val was giving this up. Maybe it would hurt less that way, as clean breaks always seemed to do. 

The sight was still chilling, however. Unsettling. She felt sort of like a ghost touching down to haunt the place where they’d been murdered. She was here, but not really. The world passed on without her, and her attempt at gaining a hold of physical reality was wasted. 

_ Had she even really lived here at all?  _

Or was she once more just a vagrant passing through, lost? 

Overwhelmingly, she discovered an urge to return to the safety of the motel. She didn’t want to spend another minute pretending like she could hold it together here. 

Valerie lifted the box off the bed and carried it into the bathroom. Haphazardly, she threw her less than essential toiletries into it, taking care to slot the perfume between two soft sweaters. Her nail polishes fell in next, followed by a blow dryer that might actually dry her hair in a respectable amount of time. She and Jill had two of a lot of different things, so she didn’t mind packing these sorts of pieces away. 

Hygiene products were dumped in after, given that her period was an up and coming issue she’d have to contend with. And then a box of condoms, because there was still plenty of time in which it would  _ not _ be a problem. 

Despite her overarching misery, she released a small laugh.

It prompted her to stand up and pop open the medicine cabinet. She grabbed a bottle of tylenol and the rest of her birth control. It was simply a reflexive process now. Valerie had been on the pill for as long as she could remember. Certainly before Danny had begun bringing condoms along. 

She shuddered. Just getting him to consider it had been like pulling teeth. (He had claimed they were uncomfortable; that they didn’t “fit”).

But that had also been back before anybody used them, really. Her push for the change had mostly been inspired by the new safe-sex mantras that the protesters on the corners were always shouting into the news cameras. 

Her mother hadn’t known about either, of course, which always made things difficult. Valerie had just been glad to finally have access to a form of contraception that wasn’t very obviously black-marketed. 

In any case, Carolyn’s help had been a godsend. 

Then, something drew her attention before she could close the small mirrored door. On the top shelf, pushed into the corner, was an orange prescription bottle. 

Her brow furrowed. She hadn’t known that Jill was prescribed anything. 

Her conscience told her to leave it alone, that it wasn’t her business. Her self-discipline, on the other hand, was shot. That was much more persuasive. She reached up and twisted the bottle, exposing the label. 

_ Shit _ . 

The pills weren’t Jill’s. 

They were Axl’s. 

Her eyes skid over the label. The words were blackened and in bold, situated beneath his name. 

_ Lithium Carbonate _ . 

She recognized the name distantly. Her aunt had been prescribed the same thing. It was for manic-depression. 

Confusion seeped into her bones. 

_ Why hadn’t he told her?  _

It was obvious that he wasn’t taking them, though. The bottle itself was entirely full, the pale pills reaching the top of the container. The refill date was listed for the end of August, sometime after she kicked him out. 

It was October now. 

Valerie held onto them anyways, laying them gently in the box and closing it up. The decision to ask him about them solidified in her head immediately. Even if his choice to neglect them was a conscientious one, there must have been a reason he kept them laying around. 

Plus, she didn’t want Jill to come across them. If she hadn’t already, that was. A sporadic burst of horror exploded in her temples at this being one of the reasons she was so thoroughly opposed to him.

Valerie blinked. 

_ No _ . Jill wasn’t like that. 

But then her mind stalled. She had told Axl that he destroyed everything he touched, hadn’t she? She had screamed to his face that he was an explicit danger, that he was a threat to Valerie’s safety. 

The thought didn’t sit right with Val’s soul. If Jill had known, she would have talked to Valerie about it. 

Right? 

_ Yes _ , her brain overrode instantaneously. Of course she would have. 

The anxiety in her chest settled for a moment. Regathering the box, she exited the bathroom and stepped into her room for one last look. Suddenly, her bones filled with a heavy dread. Her feet dragged in reluctance. 

There were still so many good memories here. 

It had been her first safe haven. 

Valerie could still picture Jill sitting up on her knees above her, braiding her wet hair. She could still hear Hendrix pouring from her headphones as she danced around in her underwear for the first time in her life. She could still feel Axl pulling her close all those nights they fell asleep next to each other. 

There was pain here, too, of course—her argument with Axl, the tone in Slash’s voice when he had first wandered in, all of the goddamn nightmares—but it was all drowned out by the sheer power of the happy ones. This had been a shelter. A utopia. 

Valerie had to go, purely because it wasn’t that anymore. 

Before she turned and left, however, she remembered one last thing. She placed the box onto the dresser and walked to the closet. There, in the back corner was the final thing she needed. It was a gift for Jill, whose birthday was in exactly five days.

It was already wrapped in a soft gold paper, which Val had paid extra for when she’d bought it at Macy’s back in July. She just needed a card now, to convey what she definitely wouldn’t be able to say. Perhaps she’d pick it up on her way back. 

As for the gift itself, she’d have to swing by and drop it off on Monday. Jill had a big, overbearing family, and if there was anything that Val could count on, it was that they’d probably keep her busy over the weekend and into the day of her birthday. 

Points might be docked for insensitivity, but the process would be painless. Regardless, there was no way Valerie would go without giving her the gift. It seemed more than fitting now. 

She gingerly packed that away and then closed her bedroom door behind her. She didn’t stop to look at anything else and left swiftly. The longer she stood idle increased the chances of running into Jill and, considering that so much had transpired in the past twenty minutes alone, she was emotionally compromised enough. 

The weight of the pill bottle was enough to make the box feel like an anchor in her arms. 

She recognized that there was still so much buried in the past for both of them, but this seemed somehow different. It was something that affected him in real time. 

Did Axl think she would turn him away? That she would perceive him differently? The very thought caused her knees to wobble. 

He had always been so concerned that he would scare her away, was this why? 

Whatever it was, it didn’t really matter. Valerie just wanted to be a person he could trust enough to tell these sorts of things to. If he  _ did _ have days bad enough to require medication, she wanted to be there for him. She longed to be a source of comfort, for once. 

The thought that he had been aching this whole time, right under her nose, was nearly enough to form a sob in her throat. Axl was a skilled deflector, that was undeniably true, but he always felt his emotions in such large quantities. Valerie should have been able to pick up on a shift. 

He also could have been off the pills for a good reason, she supposed. Maybe he wasn’t experiencing anything that needed medicating. Maybe she hadn’t missed anything because there had been nothing to miss. 

Axl could have been waiting until he had hit a low point to tell her, too—because she liked to believe that, eventually, they would tell each other everything in their own time; everything that ate away at their insides and kept them awake throughout long nights. 

Valerie was extremely well acquainted with the struggle the concept brought, of course. Baring her soul had never been easy. It was ugly and bitter, akin to dragging her knuckles across bare concrete. 

Having Axl to break the fall eased her some of her worries, but she still feared the descent. It was such a long fucking way down. 

But that was a conversation for later. It was jam-packed with insecurities and flaws that she’d have to dig up when she talked about it with him at some other time—because there was no way that she was letting this slip under the radar. It was too goddamn important for that. 

Most of all, she wanted things to stay open between them. If Axl closed himself off from her or she swallowed down everything that made her hands shake, they’d crumble. Everything they had was already built on the ability to be honest and strengthened by the privilege to find common ground in their pain.

They couldn’t force it down, not without choking on it. 

This was going to be okay. 

Although, she remembered as she jumped into the cab of her truck and turned the key into the ignition, she had a card to buy first. She wanted to square away everything with Jill so she could properly put it behind her for the time being. 

Valerie would be home soon enough and Axl would still be there. It could wait. 


	19. heart to heart.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (cw: discussion of mental health/sensitive topics)

**_Wednesday, October 8th, 1986._ **

Axl had fallen back asleep while Valerie was gone. 

He didn’t wake when she returned, either, so she had willed herself to sit down and work on Jill’s card. It’d been harder than she expected, resulting in several crumpled up sheets of the motel paper-pad scattered across the carpet. 

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to get the words right. Everything came out either too distant or way too fucking involved, too winded or too vague. It was just supposed to be a simple message wishing Jill a happy birthday, but it had nearly driven Valerie into an early grave. 

There was just too much she wanted to say in addition to note of celebration; too much she needed to get off her chest. 

Two hours and nearly an entire pen-full of ink later, Valerie had finished. It had gotten way out of hand, but she didn’t care. 

Tucking in the pieces of paper, she slipped the card beneath the ribbon that held the wrapping in place and pushed the gift onto the top shelf of the closet, entirely out of sight. She didn’t want to have to consider it until Monday.

Axl reawoke sometime during the tail-end of her written spiel. He rolled over in bed lazily, yawning. 

“D’you just get back?” 

She turned around in the desk chair and faced him. “Been back for a couple hours. You were  _ out _ .” 

The pill bottle was still sitting in the box across the room. She could sense its presence, as though it gave off waves of toxic radiation. The curiosity was scratching at her brain painstakingly. 

“You fuckin’ wore me out.” He responded, stretching and sitting up. His dark tattoos flashed in the amber light of the bedside lamp. 

“Sorry.” Valerie mocked an apology, shrugging. 

He brushed her off. “Get everything?” 

As he spoke, he shot a glance to the box. With the exception of Jill’s gift, she had yet to unpack it. 

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I think so.” 

“Was she there?” Axl questioned, edging off the bed. His voice was laced with a tentative inquisitiveness as he jumped his way back into his jeans. 

Her grin widened. “Nope.” 

He sat down and exhaled audibly, shoulders deflating. “Well, come here, then. That’s a good thing.” 

He flopped back onto the bed bare-chested, stretching again.

“You just won’t quit it, will you?” She teased. 

The intent wasn’t there, though. In reality, it felt so good to be wanted so much. 

“Not if it’s you.” Axl remarked, point-blank. 

Her eyes softened. Then, he groaned dramatically.

“Do I really have to get up and come to you?”

His voice was slightly impatient, but it was feigned. Everything about his demeanor was playful; charming. 

If there wasn’t such stress weighing her down right now, she would have jumped right back into bed. 

Valerie forced herself to refuse. They had to discuss it before she lost the motivation. She couldn’t let this fade into obscurity. It was hanging over her head like a precariously placed anvil. 

“Yeah, in a minute.” She mumbled. “I have something I wanna talk about first. Is that okay?”

The apprehension in his eyes was instantly evident. Axl sunk against the headboard, the smirk falling from his face. “What is it?”

She didn’t like the conditional implications of his words, as if he’d only answer to certain topics of conversation. They were approaching something inexplicably serious, and she had to tread with caution. 

If she didn’t want this to backfire spectacularly, Valerie had to handle everything that ensued with the utmost care. 

“It’s nothing bad.” She returned. “I swear.” 

“Okay.” Axl stated, voice coiled tight. “Tell me.” 

Valerie stood up, walking over to the box. “When I was packing up our things today, I found something. I just wanted to ask you about it, because—”

“What is it?” He repeated. 

His limbs had gone taut in anticipation. The anxiety that radiated off him was nearly tangible. 

She rushed to provide him with an answer. Bending down, she fished the bottle of pills from the box and displayed them. 

Axl’s shoulders collapsed and he looked away. 

Valerie crossed the room speedily, her shins coming to brush against the mattress. “I don’t want you to think that I was going through your shit or anything, but I was cleaning out the bathroom and found ‘em.”

“Throw them out.” He said flatly, not meeting her eye. 

Val frowned and lowered the bottle against her side, pills rattling. “Why do you have them?” 

His mouth formed a straight line. “Why the fuck do you think?” 

“I don’t know what to think, Axl.” Valerie replied, honestly. “The whole reason I’m asking you is because I don’t wanna make any assumptions.”

“Like what? Like I’m fuckin’ insane? You’d be right.” He spat. 

Valerie grappled for control of the situation. It was too early for this to go south. It was supposed to be a normal conversation, as if they were discussing any other thing regarding their relationship. 

“You and I both know that’s not what I was fucking thinking.” claimed Valerie. 

“You’d be far from the first if you did.” 

Her heart shattered microscopically. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“There’s nothing to tell.” Axl emphasized.

“Did you think I’d push you away?” She questioned, voice breaking. “That it would scare me? Honey, you could never.”

His head shook. “I’ve tried to tell you, Val. I’m no fucking good for you.” 

Brain screaming in protest, she sat down on the bed carefully. She wasn’t going to let him trip himself down this rabbit hole again. 

“What are they for?”

He groaned and wrapped his arms around himself. A defense mechanism. 

“It’s fucking lithium. You know what it’s for.” 

“Medications have different purposes for different people.” She stated, trying her hardest to keep her voice level. “My aunt was on it because she’d go weeks without sleeping.” 

It had taken months for Valerie to learn that Aunt Sandra was more than an adventurous chatterbox. Val hadn’t known that there was something that tied her to that constant peak of energy until she nearly hadn’t been able to come back down from it. 

They’d been on a road-trip halfway into the next state over before Valerie found the pills in her aunt’s purse. And that had only come after they had nearly slammed the van into a billboard. It’d been dark, anyway, and the other woman’s focus had been ditched miles back. 

Axl finally looked over at her, eyes clouded with puzzlement. “Your aunt?” 

“She’s who I stayed with before I moved in with Jill.” Valerie reminded him. 

Remembrance dawned on his face. She pressed on. “Is it the same for you? Or is it for—”

“It’s for both.” He grumbled, twisting his features away again. 

She stayed put, waiting. 

Then, he sighed. “I have these episodes—these fucking moods—where I can’t control what the fuck I’m doing or how I’m feelin’.”

Valerie moved to speak but cut herself off when Axl continued. 

“When I’m wired, they’re scary as shit, and I’ll go fucking days without sleeping, eating,  _ anything _ .” He explained. His voice was gritty, just barely above a whisper, and at the sight of his hands laying limp in his lap, she had to fight off every instinct to bridge the gap. “And when I’m crashing, they’re…” 

He trailed off, words temporarily failing him, and pulled his knees up to his chest. “They’re so fucking bad.” 

“So why don’t you take the meds then?” Valerie gently asked. 

She set the pills on the bed between them, letting him absorb their presence. She loathed that she seemed to have ripped up something that caused him such pain. 

“Because they don’t fucking work. They make me feel like hell.” Axl answered. “The only reason they’re said to fix your problems with feelings is because they don’t let you feel anything at all.” 

A hesitant form of comprehension dripped down her shoulders. “Have you tried them?” 

His nod was slow. “Yeah, in the beginning. I stopped after the first few doses.”

“Were you just diagnosed?” She questioned. 

Hesitantly, she sensed him warming up to the conversation—easing into it. 

“No.”

“Then why’s this dosage so recent?”

He glanced at her, his expression saddened. A sharp rock of comprehension lodged itself in her throat. 

“No,” She faltered, leaning back. “Axl, no.”

“Val, please.” He begged, his voice thick. 

Her eyes were wide in an abrupt, immeasurable despair. When she spoke, the words barely passed her lips. 

“ _ For me? _ ” 

“I don’t want to ever hurt you.” He replied. “And I thought that by going back on ‘em, I might cut that risk. But I couldn’t fuckin’ do it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you apologize.” Valerie gave in to her impulses and closed the space between them. Lifting his hand from his lap, she fit it within her own. “Please know that I would never ask that of you. I trust you the way you are. You couldn’t scare me.”

“ _ I _ was scaring me.” He stated. “The day we fought, you know—”

“Yeah.” 

“What came after were some of the worst fucking days of my life. It’s completely black, and I couldn't tell you a damn thing that I did. I was roaming for at least half a week—doing nothing, everything—I don’t fuckin’ know. When I came back to myself, I was terrified.” 

His eyes drifted closed and she felt her heart crawl to her throat. “And, whatever, I was still holding out hope that you weren’t gonna hate me forever, so I told myself that I could never let myself get like that again if I wanted to be with you.

“I’m so—”

He rose a hand, shaking his head. “I wanted so fuckin’ badly to be a good man for you.”

“You are.” She implored, voice breaking.

_ Why couldn’t he see that?  _

“And I still do, obviously, but at the time…” He grew quiet. “It sounded like a good idea, so I gave ‘em another shot.” 

“Axl,” She soothed. 

Valerie was speechless, entirely unsure of how to respond. She was at a loss for how to comfort him. 

“It was hell. I felt like I was walking around dead for days. I was barely fuckin’ living.” 

She flinched. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—I didn’t.” 

“I didn’t  _ want _ you to.” His hand squeezed hers. “Because I knew that you’d think it was your fault when it wasn’t. It’s never gonna be your damn fault that my mind don’t fuckin’ work right.” 

“Don’t say that,” Valerie agonized, voice splintering. “I don’t ever wanna hear that from you again.” 

Axl brushed her off, settling farther back against the pillows. He squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. 

“I had to make a choice between running the risk and going off the pills because I wanted to feel everything,” Axl explained. “Or running no risk, staying on ‘em, and feeling nothing at all. I tried, so  _ goddamn _ hard, but, fuck, I couldn’t do it.”

“That’s okay.” Valerie insisted. 

She slid her hand up his upper arm, running her thumb over the outlines of dark ink with affection. He looked down at her movements. 

“The day that I came over. When we cleared everything up...” She tipped her head in acknowledgement at his words. He continued. “When I was in the hallway, waiting for Jill to let me in.” 

Valerie recalled the way he had sat curled up in the hallway, limbs bunched together. She remembered the confusion on his face at her appearance; the general disorientation that had flooded his actions. Torturously, she nodded.

“I lied about not being on something. My brain was scrambled, and my days got fucked up. That was when I was just coming off ‘em again. That’s why I was out of it.” He reasoned. 

The pieces clicked together in her head. Everything he said was making sense. 

Did that mean he was on them the night she’d called him drunk, spilling her feelings like puked guts? 

“It was the first time I was feeling anything in days.” Axl added. “And hearing everything you had to say that night, it was good. God, I felt fucking  _ good _ . I don’t wanna miss out on shit like that. I don’t. I know it’s fucking selfish and I know—” 

“Hey,” Valerie interrupted, squeezing his wrist. “I’m not gonna question whatever you need to do to get through the day, not if it works. Certainly not if it makes you comfortable.” 

“It barely works.” He responded. “There are still some days where I’ve gotta keep myself from losing it. I almost did with Jill.”

“But you didn’t.” 

“But I almost did.” Axl volleyed. “If I hadn’t run into you on the way out, there’s no telling what I would have done.” 

“Is that why you keep them?” She asked, referencing the pills with a quick flick of her eyes. “Are they a back-up? In case somethin’ goes wrong?”

She wasn’t sure how they’d work as a contingency plan, but there was so much of this conversation that was shrouded in mystery. Her brain was traveling in dozens of directions simultaneously. There were so many things that she still wanted to ask him about and so many stories that she wanted him to expand on. 

He shook his head in response. “I actually just forgot about them.” 

The answer seemed reasonable to Valerie and she nodded again, moving to detach herself from him. 

Frantically, he latched onto her wrist, his grip iron-clad. “Wait— _ wait _ .” 

She froze. “Yeah?” 

“I—I don’t want it to seem like I was hiding this from you.” Axl stammered. 

“Oh, no.” Her muscles loosened and she leaned into his touch. “Not at all.” 

“I know it’s a fucking scary thing and I’m terrified of the things I do sometimes, of the way I think about things, too. And I know I’ve given you outs, but I’m so goddamn selfish. I didn’t want you to fear me. I  _ don’t _ .” He insisted. “But I couldn’t help but think you would, especially if I told you right off the bat.”

“I’m never gonna be afraid of you. I never have been.” Valerie shook off his grasp and recollected his hand. “What I’m more concerned about is that you didn’t feel safe enough tell me.” 

“It’s not—”

“Ax, you and I’ve both got our issues, that’s been the whole thing. And you’ve been so good about dealin’ with my problems and making sure that I know that you’re here. I don’t want you to ever think that I ain’t gonna be here for you during your low moments.” Valerie shared. “If you didn’t want to tell me because you felt it was best to keep to yourself, then I understand.” 

Axl frowned and leaned his head against the headboard. 

“But if it was because you were afraid of my reaction, then please,” She implored. “Let me know what I can do to prove to you that I’m never gonna be like that.” 

“I never know what the last straw’s gonna be for people until they’re gone.” He weakly replied. 

His eyes were squeezed shut, his face contorted in discomfort.

She could hear her heartbeat resounding in her ears because, more than anything, Valerie knew the pain of being left behind. Abandonment was no stranger. It never had been. The thought of him experiencing the agony she did on a daily basis set her body aflame. 

“I get it.” 

“I should have told you earlier.” 

“No,” Valerie returned. “I’m just glad we talked about it.” 

“You deserved to know.” Axl insisted. 

“And now I do.” She replied. 

He rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand. “Still,”

“I trust you to tell me what I need to know. Everything else will come in time.”

“It will.” He nodded. 

She smiled. “I know.” 

Then, his brow furrowed. His expression became pained.

“What?” She asked, abruptly unable to control the apprehension that flooded her limbs. 

“That night you called,” He began, flicking his gaze to her. “Told me you loved me?” 

Her suspicions were confirmed. The memory slammed into her like a truck. “Yeah?” 

“I was on ‘em.” 

She exhaled. “That’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry.” His face was crumpled in pain and she longed to smooth out the painful crevices of his hurt.

“Don’t apologize, baby. It was a bad situation for the both of us.” 

“I should have been kinder.” He replied. 

“And I should have been sober. It’s okay. No matter what, we can’t go back. Everything worked out the way I wanted it to, anyway. I have you now.”

He cracked a small grin and leaned towards Valerie, resting his forehead against hers. “Nobody said it was gonna be easy, right?”

“Anybody who calls shit like this easy deserves my fist in their fucking face.” Valerie replied, rolling her eyes.

He breathed a laugh, his eyes softening. “I’d kill to see that.” 

“You would, wouldn’t you?” A brilliant smile unfolded on her face. “A match made in fucking hell, you and I.” 

“Yeah, probably.” He distractedly responded without a bite. Then, he grew thoughtful. “So everything went okay at Jill’s?” 

She pressed her lips to his cheek. “Got everything we need. I think we’re set for a while. We’re gonna make this work.” 

He kissed her fully, his mouth soft and pliant. Her hand found his jaw, holding him close. 

This was more than a kiss, though. She could feel him pouring a new emotion into it; gratitude. 

When she broke away, she lifted the pills. “You mind if we keep these around?” 

Axl frowned. “I’m not gonna take them.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Then what’s the point in keeping them?” He asked irritably. 

“Because,” Valerie placed her lips against the space between his eyebrows. “I think it’s always good to have the option. Even if you forgot about them, I liked that you held onto them. It shows that you still care about how you affect others.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t.” 

“Say what you want.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t fool me.” 

“Whatever.” 

Valerie kissed him again, chastely. “Keeping them, yes?” 

Axl nodded slowly, exhaling. “Yeah, I guess.” 

She jumped from the bed with a new sense of purpose. Collecting the bottle of pills, she left him there and leapt to the bathroom. 

Valerie then flipped the bottom cabinet open and placed it inside. It was easily dwarfed by the shampoo bottles and spare rolls of toilet paper—successfully hidden. No wonder the container had evaded her attention for so long. It seemed as though it was meant to be forgotten. 

The information she learned today wouldn’t be, though. Valerie would think it over later and accommodate it into the way she went about things. It wouldn’t change anything, of course, but this was still important. 

The fact that he trusted her enough to divulge as he had stirred something warm in her stomach. Slowly but surely, she was gaining his full trust. She was getting closer and closer to cracking him open and climbing her way inside.

Valerie let the cabinet fall closed and returned to Axl. He was still laying on the bed, his expression unreadable. 

She launched herself onto the mattress, rolling into his side. “What’s that look for?”

He pulled her flush against his chest, wrapping an arm around her stomach. His jewelry bit into the soft flesh. 

“I can’t figure you out.” 

“You should probably stop trying.” Val advised. 

“I just wanna understand you.” Axl clicked his tongue. “I wanna know why you do the things that you do. For me, yourself—anybody, really. I can’t pin you down.” 

She shrugged against him. “Well, let me know what you come up with. I gave up on trying years ago.” 

“You confuse me.” 

“It’s mostly unintentional.” She assured him. 

He chuckled against her ear. “You also drive me up the fucking wall.” 

This time she laughed, turning her cheek against his lips. “ _ That’s _ intentional.” 

Axl tucked his head in the swoop of her neck. When he exhaled, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. Her eyes fell shut. Their bodies fit together seamlessly, her back pressed against his chest and, slowly, his arms surrounded her once more, enveloping in a hazy semblance of utter serenity. 

Quiet settled around them eventually. The only sound that permeated the ambience was the persistent croak of the radiator, muddled with the constant stream of cars that passed by just outside the shelter of these four thin walls. 

In some loose, twisted sense of the word, she considered this to be a paradise. It was something so safe, so distinctly belonging to only them. 

She loved it. 

Almost as much as she loved him. 

Valerie ran her hand down his arm, the one that was thrown over her waist. Then, she brought his closed fist to her mouth, grazing her lips across his knuckles. The limb slackened mildly in her hand. 

“Ax?” Her words bounced off the tightly stretched skin of his hand.

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you for talking to me.” Valerie whispered. “I know it couldn’t have been easy.” 

He reached around and brushed the hair from her face, laying it gently over her shoulder. Lightly, the tips of his fingers lingered on the smooth expanse of her upper arm. 

“I want to be able to tell you these things about me.” Axl confessed. “I do.”

“Today was a good start.” She replied. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was jumping down your throat or whatever, but I just thought that—” 

“I’m glad that you did. Really. I want to be able to talk about these kinds of things, it’s just so fucking hard. I’ve never had to before. I’ve never been able to.” 

She did her best to ignore the audible cries of her throbbing, bleeding heart. “That’s what I’m here for. That’s what I want to be for you. I need to be somebody you can talk to.”

“I don’t think I deserve that.” 

“You do.” Valerie immediately overruled. “This shouldn’t have to weigh you down, either. Let me help you carry it.” 

Axl burrowed deeper against her neck. “It’s not your problem to deal with.”

“It’s not a problem, first of all.” She replied. “But even if it was, it’s like you said earlier. Your problems are mine, too. I  _ want _ to help you. I  _ want _ to be there for you.” 

He sighed faintly.

“But I want you to take your time,” Valerie continued. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Okay.”

“There’s nothing about you that could change how I feel.”

Axl nodded against her. His nose skimmed the corner of her jaw.

“You’re a crazy woman.” He said. 

“I’m not.” Valerie asserted, kissing his hand again. “I love you, that’s all.” 

“Completely insane, then.” 

“Maybe.” 

They both laughed and Valerie turned over, pivoting to face him. 

His face was indecipherable once more, but his eyes were soft; defenseless. He had never looked more tender than he did in this moment, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up into him, to hold him tight and bleed her soul into his. He was on display for her now, but she feared that it was fleeting. 

Yet, at the same time, she knew that the severity of the conversation was burdening him. It was visible in the harsh crinkle of his brow and the way he was resistant to meet her eye. He must have exposed too much, too quickly. Axl was outside of his comfort zone, and desperately, she worked to drag him back. 

“Hey, let’s just...forget about this for now. My shift doesn’t start for a while. We’ve got time to kill.” 

To ease his mind, Valerie was willing to let this go for the night. What she had learned was more than enough.

Axl dragged his line of sight to her, humming. “What are you thinkin’?” 

His words were still muted and hushed. He was crawling in on himself. 

She glanced up at him, slotting her hand beneath his chin. The curve of her smile was mischievous. 

“Well, you fell asleep before I could blow you earlier…” She replied coyly. 

“Yeah?” His smirk was instant, his uneasiness melting away. “The offer still on the table?” 

As he spoke, he leaned down and seized her lips. She removed her fingers from his cheeks and trailed them down the span of his chest, skipping like stones across his sternum. 

“Always, baby.” She reached his waistline and popped the button of his jeans effortlessly. 

But before she could do anything, Axl kissed her again. His hand was cupped over her neck, his thumb notched beneath her chin. 

Deepening it, she felt him everywhere. Their noses knocked and her hand latched around the divot of his hip. Her fingers curled over it, the lip of the bone etching into the base of her palm. 

He broke away, chest heaving. “You mean so fucking much to me, Val. You don’t even fucking know.”

Her heart lit up in her chest, dazzling.

“Yeah, whatever.” She responded, despite her internal excitement. “Shut up and let me suck your dick.” 

He rolled his eyes as Valerie sat up and snaked down his body. “You’re a menace.” 

“But I’m  _ your _ menace.” She replied. 

Then she bent down to do what she had promised him hours earlier. His hands weaved into the pale length of her hair and dug craters into the flesh of her skull. It didn’t matter that he was trying to go gentle, he couldn’t shy away from the sheer intensity that bled into the way he grabbed onto her. 

On some deeper level, she liked the fact that they could exchange such deep, heavy topics for something else they were so fucking good at; something else that came much easier. It was an endless cycle of give and take. 

It felt like taking the training wheels off the back of a bike only to find oneself remaining upright; balanced. They were stabler than anything Valerie had ever known, and for that reason alone, it was also the most important thing. She could depend on this trade-off. 

She wanted to rely on the ability to find both solace and release in a man as magnificent as him. 

And it was because she wanted to, that she did. 

Their relationship was always going to consist of these two distinct halves. It was an indisputable reality now. The harmony between the complex, profound emotional chess match and the striking, physical roulette wheel was intentional. 

They knew what they wanted out of each other, so they took it.

But, as always, it still paled in comparison to what they had to give. 

_ Everything _ . 


	20. pity party.

_ Monday, October 13th, 1986. _

The days leading up to her birthday passed by in a flurry of activity. 

They were packed to the brim in family dinners, cheap dollar store cards, and small gift boxes that were beginning to pile up in the corner of her gathering room; unopened. As always, there was so much material love present. It was the telltale sign that Jill had aged another year. 

Nothing had changed, however, and nothing had made that clearer than her parents inviting her home for Sunday night dinner. If nothing else, it was bound to be an experience. She hadn’t been  _ really  _ home in months.

The meal itself had been spectacularly insignificant, but everything else had been unnervingly unpleasant. Once again, Jill was reminded of the reason she had pushed to move away so quickly. She was bombarded with memories of why she had fought so desperately to rip open her wings and fly, no parachute.

She was officially twenty-two years old and had yet to worm her way out from behind the shadows that her family casted upon her. It didn’t matter that her body was crumbling beneath the weight of the pillar she was supposed to rest upon, everything she’d felt the day before she purchased her apartment—the crippling inferiority, the inescapable feeling of being misunderstood, the persistent judgement—was all still there. Conceivably stronger now, too, given all of the space and time between them. The disunity had been left to simmer for months, boiling at a snail’s pace. 

It was as though they had been saving their breath, waiting for the precise moment that Jill walked through the door to spring upon her. Worse yet was the notion that their discontent wasn’t even outright. It was passive, engrained so deeply in the way they regarded her that she couldn’t possibly find the root and dig it up. All she could do was sense its presence and feel their words roll off her skin and right into the lukewarm pasteles. 

Although, it wasn’t like her family wasn’t happy to see her, because they absolutely  _ were _ ; overjoyed, even. They greeted her with overbearing hugs and joyous laughs and celebratory shouts, and they pulled her in like she had never left. Still, she hadn’t let herself be fooled. She kept her distance. 

She loved her family dearly, of course, but it had always been evident that she didn’t have a place within their ranks. She didn’t fit and she never had. 

It was as though she had always been several steps outside the box and they had always clambered over each other to stand right in the center of it. They were extroverted and charming and Jill had always been aware that she wasn’t. She was a quiet child who had grown into a reserved woman. There was no changing that. 

But, alternately, they were also mind-numbingly mundane, and Jill had  _ also _ always been aware that she most definitely was not.

There wasn’t anything necessarily wrong within the family, just an ever-widening gap. Her parents, her sister, and her three brothers were so similar and she was just too different. The discrepancies had always been irreconcilable. 

It had only taken her four years to accept that. 

Four years and a two hour long dinner in which her father criticized her lack of a genuine “career” too many times to count, her mother dramatically bemoaned her youngest daughter moving out far too soon, and her siblings managed to poke fun at every single aspect of her outfit—even the parts that were tucked beneath the cramped wooden dining table they were all shoved around. That was another thing that hadn’t changed since her childhood; how crammed and stifling everything had been. 

Her sister, Elena, had offered to drive her home soon after the sun had set. Jill was so drained of energy that she couldn’t even find it within herself to reject it. Waiting for the bus would have usurped another hour, and she was wobbling on her feet. Her efforts to swallow her tongue and smile ran her thin too quickly. 

When she arrived home a half hour later, stomach uncomfortably full and arms juggling numerous boxes of gifts and leftovers, she also couldn’t deny herself the permission to collapse right onto the couch. 

She had fallen asleep, dressed still in her sweater and jeans, before the clock had hit eight thirty.

It hadn’t been  _ horrible _ , but it wasn’t anywhere near good, either. 

Now, it was the thirteenth of October. It was the day of her birthday itself and she didn’t feel any older. 

Perhaps that was just due to the fact that nothing substantial had shifted in her daily routine. It was just another day. It was still a Monday morning, and she still had work. Sales and returns at the corner film rental didn’t halt for anything, and she hadn’t thought far enough ahead to call it off.

Yet, in retrospect, she was wholly glad she hadn’t. The distraction work had provided might have been her favorite gift she had received so far. It served well to help her forget that, despite her weekend being filled from end to end with well-wishes and attention, Jill had never felt so entirely alone. 

At least when she was working, she could drown out the omnipresent reality of her heart breaking at the thought of having to return home to an empty apartment once more.

Her coworkers had been godsends in that aspect. They had decorated the counter behind the register with streamers and balloons, presented her with the creamiest red velvet cupcake she had ever tasted during her lunch break, and gifted her with a brand new pair of earrings. She was wearing them now, having traded her autumnal leaves for the monarch butterflies almost immediately. 

They hadn’t  _ let  _ her feel alone, and so, for a few hours, she had felt incurably warm inside; completely happy. 

It hadn’t lasted. 

As she walked home from her shift, sneakers scratching lightly against pavement, she could no longer keep the dread at bay. It had been exactly ten days since she had last seen Val. Ten days since she had last heard from her, too.

There hadn’t been so much as a phone call or note left on her doorstep. For all she knew, Valerie could be in the next state over. 

For all Jill knew, she could be dead. 

Yet, even worse than the suspense was coming home alone to an apartment that was meant to be shared. She didn’t even care that it was becoming increasingly certain that Valerie wasn’t planning to return. It was empty and it was  _ wrong _ . 

Jill knew that Val must have come by to collect more of her belongings sometime during the previous week, but that acknowledgement was powerless to scrub the trace amounts of her best friend that continued to linger in the room. Her records were still unorganized in a crate on the floor and a pair of her heels were still toppled over on the mat by the coat rack. Needless to mention was the stillness of her bedroom, which had remained undisturbed by Jill since she’d tidied it. 

There was still a bobby pin of hers on the bathroom floor that Jill kept forgetting to pick up, too. 

Her presence, though far removed, was violently unavoidable. 

Even if Val wasn’t technically living here anymore, it couldn’t erase that she once had. And, additionally, nothing could reverse the indisputable truth that there was nobody Jill had wanted to celebrate her birthday with more than her. 

The statement wasn’t selfish in intent, really—there didn’t have to be any celebration. (Even if Jill knew that Val wouldn’t have allowed for anything else). She just wanted her back home. 

She paused slightly in the doorway, thinking. Maybe it wasn’t even about her birthday. Maybe it was just that she missed so dearly spending time with somebody she had grooved so intricately with. That had always been the most remarkable factor of their friendship, after all; that it had always been so easy to coincide alongside each other.

True, they were opposites in nearly every aspect; looks, attitude, even interests, but there had always been something so essential that they held in common. It had served to bind their friendship. And it wasn’t until last week that either of them had tried to deny that. 

Jill had felt the earth shift since then. Everything felt slightly off-kilter and her sanity was hanging in the balance. Because, really, it felt like so much more than the loss of a friendship. She had actually felt a sizable piece of her happiness slip away when Val had slammed the door behind her and refused to look back. 

She was certain that there was nobody who made her feel as at ease as Valerie did. There was nobody who gave Jill and her full shade range of quirks and oddities such a canvas to be displayed upon. They were attached at the hip, yes, but solely because they were so content to just be what the other girl had needed. 

Jill had failed to be what Valerie needed, so she lost her. Understandably, she could hesitantly admit. 

She hadn’t seen it then, but she got it now. Even if her reservations about Axl were firmer than ever—truly heightened in the wake of Valerie’s prolonged radio silence, actually—she had somewhat, tentatively, come to terms with Val’s side of things. She had come to realize that she just might have toed it too far over the line when she refused to back down. 

Sure, she still thought that her best friend’s decisions were indescribably reckless, but in the end, they were just that. Her decisions. By denying her them, Jill was denying her the very basis of their friendship; trust and the mutual understanding that they both needed, more than anything, a place to express themselves without judgment.

Sometime in the past week, she had conceded to the idea that she would just have to trust Valerie to express herself in the best way she could, in whatever form it took; regardless of whether or not Jill would ever be able to fathom it.

Mostly because, when it came to a man like Axl, Jill knew she never would. It wasn’t worth losing her permanently over. 

Val’s friendship was more important to Jill than her pride, and if she had the faintest inkling of where in the world the other girl was right now, she would be on her way there immediately. 

But instead, this dead air hung between them like an unsettling dial tone, creeping up her spine and filling the cavities of her head. It didn’t feel right purely because it  _ wasn’t _ right. It had always been Valerie and Jill. 

It didn’t matter that they had only known each other for what was going on eight months, Jill could feel herself falling back into the headspace she carried around prior to that. She feared it. She didn’t want to be alone again. She didn’t want to go any longer without the glow of Valerie’s smile; nor the intensity of her confidence or the ubiquitous joy that filled the scene whenever she set foot onto it. She wasn’t an inherently warm person, but she was an undeniably safe one. She was steady and dependable, and Jill was unable to make sense of what her life looked like when she was no longer there. 

It threw everything off balance. 

Walking further into the room, she hung up her coat and purse on the rack and pulled off her boots. Dinnertime was around the corner, and Jill didn’t have any plans. She imagined that she’d just have to order take-out again. It’d been over a week since she’d had the time to go grocery shopping anyways, because she and Valerie had always alternated on the responsibility. It was no fun shopping for just herself and, because it felt like more of a chore that way, she had continued to put it off.

Tonight, it returned to bite her in the ass. 

The rest of her birthday would be spent at home, though. She was sure of that. She was entirely lacking in company to spend it with and any semblance of going out would make that entirely, painfully, obvious. 

It was a good thing that Jill knew how to be alone more so than anything else. 

She flopped onto the couch and reached up to relinquish her hair from its up-do. The thick, dark curls sprung down to cover her shoulders as she picked up the remote and turned to the television. Nothing was on tonight except for depressing news reels, highlight footage of an awards show for a music genre that Jill wasn’t invested in, and a Mets game. Lovely. 

She sighed, clicked on a random telenovela rerun, and tossed the remote to the other end of the couch. These shows always reminded her staunchly of her mother, whom she wasn’t too happy with in the current moment. But listening to the dramatic Spanish was mindless; she didn’t have to think. 

Jill was too much of an overthinker, as it was. Everyone had always said so. 

She laid through two episodes before there was a knock at the door. Instantly, the beat of the heart in her chest spiked. There was absolutely nobody who should have been knocking at this hour. 

This hour, of course, being half past seven in the evening. 

Jill rose to her feet and smoothed her hair down. Possibilities flitted through her mind like a poorly shuffled deck of cards. But no matter what scenario she envisioned, none of them ended with Valerie standing at the other end of the door. 

She knew, instinctually, that that ship had sailed and was never coming back. There was no use in scraping her hopes up. 

Maybe answering the door would be pointless, then. She could very well just ignore it. There was nobody else she wanted to see. 

A small, persistent voice in her head protested, however. Jill groaned and crossed the room. 

Her pessimistic mental preparedness paid off, at least. Though her eyebrows were still coaxed high onto her forehead, the person standing on the other side of the door wasn’t Val. Tension released itself from her body as she worked to put down her guard. 

She sighed. 

It was Izzy. Again. 

“Hey?” Jill greeted weakly, unable to keep the confusion from her tone. 

He titled his chin up, barely looking up over his sunglasses. “Hey.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

She hadn’t seen him since two Fridays ago. Since after he’d awoken from his nap on her couch and disappeared into the night. 

If anything, she had actually forgotten that he’d even stopped by. The past ten days were mostly an endless blur of greyness. 

She shifted her weight onto one leg and pulled the door open fractionally. 

“I heard it was your birthday.” He responded plainly, shrugging.

“Yeah,” She answered vaguely, her brow raising even further, encroaching into her hairline. “It is. How’d you—”

“Steven’s got a big mouth.” 

“Oh.” replied Jill. “Well, yeah.” 

She’d forgotten that she’d talked to Steven over the phone a few days ago, too. It’d been so long since she’d seen him and she’d been desperate for any sort of human interaction—something the drummer was consistently more than willing to provide. 

But that didn’t explain why Izzy was here, or why he cared. 

“Is there a reason you stopped by, though? Anything I can do for you?”

Her hair was a mess and her clothing was wrinkled. Even if he couldn’t tell, she was wholly unprepared for visitors. The only thing that kept her from looking entirely unkempt was the make-up she’d been too lazy to remove immediately after coming home. 

“I just told you. I heard it was your birthday.” He responded. “And you can help me bring some of this shit in, actually, my arm is crampin’ like a bitch.” 

It was only then that she noticed his arms were full; his lithe hands balancing a few boxes and take-out bags. She lunged forward instantly. 

“Christ.” Jill exclaimed, wrestling items from him until his left arm was free. 

He wrung it out and exhaled heavily. “Motherf—”

“What’s all this?” She asked, interrupting him and backpedaling to the kitchen table to unload the weight.

Izzy pulled up beside her and extended a pointing finger. “Gift from Slash, cards from Duff and Steven.” 

Her eyes watered. She blinked furiously. “Oh.” 

“And,” He continued, placing two more plastic bags onto the table. “Dinner. From me. You haven’t eaten, have you?”

Jill just shook her head, unable to articulate words. She was rendered utterly speechless. 

Izzy released another sigh. This one sounded to be of relief. “And you like Thai, right?”

She nodded this time, still unable to meet his eye. Thai was her favorite.

He smiled slightly and broke open the bags. “Okay, cool, well I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got a little bit of everything.”

He removed several various paper boxes and plastic containers and Jill’s eyes widened uncontrollably. There was so much food present and she knew that it must have cost him. She didn’t understand why he was spending his money and time on her.

That wasn’t to say she didn’t appreciate his company, of course, because she did; unspeakably so. But the math didn’t add up in her head. With the exception of Steven and maybe Slash, she was really only friends with the men through Valerie. Jill didn’t think she had enough of a standing on her own to merit this sort of time spent together. It certainly shouldn’t have yielded birthday cards and dinner. 

Not after she’d ripped their lead singer to pieces on purpose.

Izzy didn’t seem too bothered. “Yeah, so, I don’t really know what’s in each box. There’s this shrimp soup that I don’t remember the name of,” He cracked open a bowl to peer into its contents. 

“Then there’s Gai Tod, and some fried vegetables, but I actually think this one might be the Pad—” 

“Izzy.” 

“—Thai. And then just fried rice, yeah.” He continued, unaware that he was mostly talking to himself. Jill had backed away, suddenly overwhelmed. 

“ _ Izzy _ .” 

He looked up abruptly. Shaggy black pieces of his hair fell into his line of sight, which wasn’t quite focused in the first place. For a brief moment, Jill wondered what he was wired on. 

Then, she shook the thoughts away, because that wasn’t what was important right now. 

“Why are you doing this?”

He titled his head quizzically. “Doing what?” 

“This,” Jill repeated, gesturing to the display items on the table. “The food, the gifts, being here. Why?” 

He placed down the container he was holding and reached up to push his sunglasses into his hair. Like always, Jill was shocked by the startling kindness she found in his eyes. They were curiously unguarded; trustworthy. It was something she didn’t think she’d ever get used to, purely because she didn’t feel as though it fit him. 

Or, more likely, whoever he was trying to be.

“Oh, did you have plans for tonight? Am I interrupting something?” 

He threw a sardonic glance towards the television set. Scenes from the telenovela still curled from the speakers at a considerably high volume. Jill reddened and looked away. 

“Well, no.” She stammered. “But I don’t get why you’re doing all of this.”

“It’s your birthday, Jill, we’ve been over this.” Izzy replied, not impatiently. He just brushed off her questions and continued to unpack the bags, lining up the food and arranging the plastic silverware into a pile in the center of the table.

“Which isn’t exactly your problem to deal with.” She replied. “It’s my fault that—”

“Do you not want me here?” Izzy asked, interrupting her. 

Jill frowned. “No, that’s not it. Not at all. And I’m sorry that—”

Izzy spoke over her again. “Look, Jill. Your birthday comes once a year. It should be fucking celebrated. I know you’re not talking to Val right now, and I’m guessing that I’m probably the only one that actually knows  _ why _ , so I figured this was the least I can do.” 

She inhaled, piecing together a response. He beat her to the punch. 

“If you really don’t want me here, I’ll go. I get it, okay? But if the only thing pushing you to spend tonight alone is because you think you don’t deserve a good time, then I’m not leaving. I’ll stay all night if I have to, and fuckin’—sleep on your couch, I guess.” 

Jill cracked a small smile. “You like my couch.” 

He shrugged. “Eh, had better.” 

She rolled her eyes and then returned to the topic at hand. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve come off ungrateful. Really, Izzy, it means the world to me that you’re here right now. I just haven’t had the best past few days, so I’m a little all over the place. I’m sorry.”

“Stop fucking apologizing, will you? I said I get it.” Izzy responded, shrugging. He turned to remove two plates from the cupboards before seating himself down at the table. He only looked up when she didn’t immediately follow. 

He sighed exasperatedly, then pointed at the seat across from him. “Come on,” 

Sensing a dead end, Jill gave into him. Without thinking, she sat and pulled herself closer to the table. 

“You get it?” She asked, glancing over at him with skeptical eyes. 

Izzy nodded. “Been in this band for about a year, been friends with him for a hell of a lot longer. We’re constantly fighting. We go weeks without fuckin’ talking to one another. That’s just how it works.”

“How can you be okay with that, though?” Jill questioned. “Don’t you get tired of all the tension? Of all the anger?” 

His brow furrowed in thought. He handed her the rice in exchange for the Pad Thai. “No.” 

“No?” She echoed. 

“No.” He repeated. “It makes things work.” 

Jill bit down into a piece of broccoli. “But doesn’t it get old? Fighting with him all the time?” 

“It’s not just Axl, I don’t think.” said Izzy. His voice was sluggish and soft. “I mean, yeah, he starts most of the shit that we go through, but it's not like the rest of us don’t keep it going for so long. He gets over things quickly because he doesn’t have room to hold grudges. The rest of us do, though, and that’s why nothing ever gets fucking solved.”

When he finished, he raised the Gai Tod towards her. Jill shook her head. “I’m vegetarian.” 

A brief look of surprise flashed across his features. “You are? Since when?” 

“Since four years ago.” She replied. “It was something that I just was trying out when I moved out here, but then it stuck.” 

“You moved out right outta of high school?” Izzy asked, placing down the chicken and picking up a fork. 

“Sure did. Not far, though. I grew up outside a vineyard town pretty close to here, and this was the only city with art schools in reach.” 

“You’re an artist?” Izzy parroted. The drugs made everything about him slower, but it couldn’t erase the genuine interest that leaked into his tone. 

“Depends who you ask. My dad? No. The school? Sure. Gotta diploma to prove it, too.”

“What do you do?” 

“Nothing anymore, really.” responded Jill. “But I was big into drawing and painting. They’re what I took the most classes in, anyway.” 

He hummed in contemplation before taking a huge bite out of the chicken. Everything about the way he was moving was weird. The clash between his customary aloof manner and this improper, boyish behavior was dizzying. Jill tried her hardest to reconcile the two, but came up empty. 

At his odd expression, she sat up straighter. “What?” 

He smirked slightly. “Nothing. I guess I just haven’t met a college graduate in years.”

“Well, I just barely finished the degree, so it’s nothing to be proud of.” 

“It is.” Izzy shook his head minutely. “And, hell, it’s way more than I’ve got going for me. You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much.” 

“Sorry.” replied Jill, offhandedly. 

“Please stop apologizing.” Izzy returned, frowning slightly. He pushed the noodles around his plate with his fork. 

“...Sorry?”

His head snapped up, his gaze full of feigned annoyance. Jill was smiling, though; brightly. 

He  _ tsk _ ed lightly and sat back. “But, anyways, as I was saying, I don’t really get tired of the way we run things because they’re so successful. Ask me again in a few years and my answer might be different, but right now? Nah. It’s okay.” 

“I wish I could do that. I want to be able to just let go of the fact that everything upsets me so much.” 

“I know,” Izzy stated. “You kinda got the short end of the stick on this one.” 

“So this is a pity dinner? Don’t feel bad for me. It’s my fault.” Jill explained. She picked up her spoon and broke into her pile of rice. 

“I do feel bad for you, but not for that. It just sucks that you ended up on the wrong side of two of the most difficult people I’ve ever met.” 

Jill’s rebuttal was reflexive. “Val’s not difficult.” 

“She is,” Izzy insisted. “And he makes her unreachable.” 

“ _ I know _ .” She replied, rolling her eyes. Then, she sighed. “But she’s—she’s really not.” 

“Anybody that’s hard to know is automatically difficult.” He overruled confidently.

“Maybe you just haven’t tried to get to know her.” 

“I haven’t.” He confirmed. “Axl did that for me. And I know  _ him _ . The sort of people he likes, too. They’re all like him; difficult.” 

Jill blinked. “He likes you.”

“Now you see why we fight all the time?”

She pursed her lips and fell against the wooden back of the chair. The conversation had come full circle. 

“And stop calling this a pity dinner,” He added hastily. “Our recording sessions over the past few days—now  _ those _ are pity parties.” 

“Oh, God.” Jill exclaimed. “I haven’t set him off, have I?” 

“You mean, created a perfectionist asshole? Absolutely not.” replied Izzy smugly. “He’s been that since day one. Fuckin’ trust me.”

“But it’s going okay, then? Everything’s sounding good?” 

His indifference faltered almost imperceptibly. “I think so.” 

She grinned. “Good, that’s—that’s really good to hear.” 

“Yeah.” Izzy acknowledged. 

It looked like he made to push himself away from the table, before thinking better of it. 

“You know,” He began. “You should come down to the studio one of these days. I know Slash and Steven really love having you around.” 

The corners of her lips turned downwards. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really think I can be around...everyone. Not yet. I’m not ready to see them almost as much as I know they don’t want to see me.” 

Izzy stood up and sighed. He extended a hand for her plate.

A subtle, nonverbal fight ensued and only ended when Izzy regained his grip on the dish and nearly tripped to reach the sink first. Jill huffed in moderate annoyance and he smiled victoriously. 

She settled for drying the dishes that he rinsed. 

“Have you heard from her since?” Izzy asked eventually, looking over at her. The yellowish tint of the overhead light bounced off the white tile and onto his skin. It made his features look sallow. His wide eyes looked nearly sunken-in.

“No,” Jill whispered, gripping the pale green towel tightly in her fist. “But it’s okay. I didn’t expect it.” 

“Probably for the best. I still think you should just give it time.” 

She let her shoulders fall. “How long, though?” 

Izzy twisted the nozzle off with a squeak and let his plate fall against the basin of the sink. He looked down at her, his face contorted with unease. It was clear that he was out of his depth here, and she couldn’t blame him. 

“Honestly?” Izzy questioned. 

She nodded weakly. 

“I don’t fucking know.” 

Her heart grew heavy in her chest. “I hate that.” 

Izzy lifted a single brow. “That I don’t know?” 

“Not knowing, in general.” Jill replied. “There’s been no closure. She’s iced me out and I fucking hate it.” 

“There’s not gonna be closure because it’s not over.” He reassured her pointedly. Then he picked up his dripping plate, rinsed off the suds, and handed it to her. 

She accepted it. “I hope so.” 

And it was true. Jill couldn’t really do anything but  _ hope _ he was right. 

She didn’t know what she would do if he wasn’t. 

At this point, she’d do anything to have her best friend back.

When he was done with the dishes, he twisted to grab a fresh hand towel from atop the breadbox. She absentmindedly watched him dry his pale, slender hands before turning away to work on cleaning up the mess they’d created at the table.

“Hey, what’s this?” He asked abruptly. 

Jill pivoted on her heel, coming face to face with the dark grey button-up that covered his back. “What’s what?” 

“This.” Izzy repeated, pointing to the counter. She peered over his shoulder and felt her stomach drop. She’d forgotten all about that. 

“I thought you said you weren’t doing art anymore?” 

Jill backed away and returned to the table. She worked to pack up the leftovers into their containers before replacing them neatly in the bag. She would be sending them with him, as it was. Her fridge was stuffed from her mother and he needed it way more than she did. 

“Oh,” He hesitated, his words languid. “Was I not supposed to see this? Sorry.” 

“No, it’s not—I forgot about it, to be honest. I left it there to dry a few days ago and never put it away.” She explained. 

“Well, either way, it’s really fuckin’ good.” 

She didn’t think so. It was something that she’d started last week, when the boredom that was chained to living alone peaked. And, really, it was just a pathetically depressing mess. It was something much more abstract that she was used to, and that showed through in the quality of the work. 

But she bit that down and grinned half-heartedly. “Thank you.”

“Is it Val?” He questioned next. He was faced away from her again, too busy examining the dark piece to catch the way her smile flickered. 

“I’m not sure.” She responded, truthfully. “I think it’s a lot of different things.”

He hummed again. “You shouldn’t give this talent up, Jill.” 

“It doesn’t pay the bills.” She instinctively shot back. It sounded like her father had taken up temporary residence in her vocal cords. 

“Neither does playing in a fuckin’ band, but here I am.” Izzy said. 

“That will, one day.” Her voice didn’t waver in the slightest. 

He brushed her off. “With skills like these? So will this.”

“Yeah, well, until then…” 

“Keep doing it.” He stated definitively. She felt an indescribable warmth shiver down her spine. Jill had never had her art validated before. Not by someone who wasn’t paid to do it, at least. The change felt nice. 

Maybe he wasn’t too bad to have around. 

After all, that’s why it only made sense that he couldn’t stay. 

He suddenly flicked his gaze to the clock on the far wall and exhaled. “Shit, I’ve got to be at the studio in, like, fifteen.”

“Okay.” She finished packaging the bag of food, rolling the top over and handing it to him. “And don’t even argue, I’m not gonna eat it.” 

“Neither will I.” He pushed. 

“Slash will, then.” 

At that, he accepted the bag without protest. “Alright, fine.”

Then, he began to turn towards the door. He didn’t have anything else to bring with him, she noticed. Not even a jacket. 

She was also confused by the fact that he was seemingly content to leave without a goodbye. 

“Izzy?” 

He glanced back at her. Pieces of his dark hair had fallen in front of his eyes again; the same pair that were once more covered in the thick shades. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for coming.” She stated. Her voice was clear and steady “It meant—it  _ means _ a lot to me.” 

A single corner of his mouth turned upward. Without trying, he had slipped back into the effortlessly cool version of himself that she was familiar with. Only minutely, on some unknown level, was she saddened to see the other man go. 

“Sure. Anytime.” 

Feeling the emotion threatening to spill over for the second time that night, she pointed her gaze downwards. “You really did make my night. I mean that.” 

Without dropping her eye contact, he pulled the door open. “Good.” 

“And tell the boys I said thank you for the gifts, won’t you?” 

He chuckled. “Of course. Happy birthday, again. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you planned.” 

“No, but I think it was better. Goodnight, Izzy.” 

“‘Night, Jill.” 

The door closed on its latch quietly, and then he was gone. Jill reached up and swept the tears from her bottom lashline. She wiped the hands that came away wet on her dress. 

She was tired now, but she wouldn’t go to sleep without opening what the boys had gotten her. She would also have to remember to go out and buy thank you cards after work tomorrow. Her mother would never let her live it down if she didn’t. 

Jill opened the card from Duff first. Flipping up the lip of the blue envelope, she removed the piece from its slot. It was a store-bought one, covered in glittery balloons. The sight of the tall man standing in the aisle picking it out brought an uncontained smile to her face. Affection festered in her chest. 

After gliding her eyes over the words, the tears revisited. She let them fall now, though, seeing no use in trying to mitigate them. 

_ Jill, _

_ Happy birthday!  _

_ So sorry that I couldn’t be there, but I’m sure you found a way to celebrate anyway.  _

_ Next drink’s on me.  _

_ Duff _

The message itself was relatively inconsequential, but it was also so  _ Duff _ that she couldn’t staunch the tears. It was a good cry, though, one of nothing but sheer happiness.

She had been wrong earlier. This was now the first time that Jill felt like something more than just Valerie’s best friend. It was the first time that she realized that these boys actually wanted to be friends with  _ her _ , too. 

She shook her head and picked up Steven’s card. It didn’t have an envelope and was hand-made, like the ones she used to make for her parents. On it was sketched a bundle of balloons and what she assumed to be a cake. It was slightly hard to discern, however, because he had only utilized orange and purple crayons on the whole thing. 

She couldn’t wait to display them on her dresser. 

_ Jillip,  _

_ Haha, betcha thought I forgot about that one, didn’t you? Sue me, I still think it makes sense.  _

_ Either way, happy birthday! I know I’m not there, but I’m sure you made it a good one.  _

_ I can always count on you for that. You make things a fun time.  _

_ We’ll have to go out and celebrate soon, no matter what. I’ll even let you pick the place.  _

_ I promise to not get us kicked out this time. Deal? _

_ Don’t party too hard,  _

_ Stevie _

Jill rolled her eyes again and laughed. It was a loud, freeing sound. The only thing that was filling her senses at the moment was pure joy. Sheer, unbridled elation.

Setting his card down, she picked up Slash’s gift. There was a note attached to it, covered in Slash’s messy scrawl. 

_ Fuck what Steven said. Party hard.  _

_ Slash _

It was obscene and to the point, just as everything else with him always seemed to be. 

She tore into the paper and freed a small white box. It was labeled with a department store’s stamp, a realization that made her nerves stand on end. Jill hated the idea of him spending his money on her. She knew how tight things could be. 

But she lifted the lid, nonetheless, and what she saw caused a small gasp to leave her chest. One of her hands reached up to cover her mouth. Her eyes blurred with moisture. 

_ He knew her so well.  _

Laying on a soft sheet of gold tissue paper was a pair of earrings. A set of two twinkling jellyfish, specifically. 

They looked to be made of alternate swatches of coral, turquoise, and transparent glass. They were delicate and absolutely beautiful; enough to put anything in her collection to automatic shame. Jill knew without thinking that there was no way she’d ever be able to repay him for this. There was absolutely no fucking way. She was indebted to all of them forever. 

They had stepped up and looked after her when she’d needed it most—when she hadn’t even  _ known _ that she’d needed it. 

In that precise moment, she felt so cared for. It was a foreign experience, sure, but it was a good one. She was desperate for it to last. 

Then, another knock came from the door, throwing her from her thoughts. 

She glanced at the clock. It was late. Izzy must have forgotten something. 

Placing the earrings onto the table, she jogged over to the door. She was mildly embarrassed that he would see that she’d been crying, but any mitigation efforts were futile now. Plus, it wasn’t like it was anything he hadn’t seen before. 

Jill yanked the handle down and pulled the door open. Her tongue curled into her throat and she choked. The ten days automatically faded into obscurity.

With the exception of the fact that she stood in the doorway like she had never once crossed its threshold, she hadn’t changed a bit. Thrown over her freshly-pressed yellow uniform was his leather jacket. A half-assed attempt at a smile was stitched onto her face. 

Valerie. 


	21. all the things she said.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hope this satiates whatever anger i caused with the last mini-cliffhanger <3

_Monday, October 13th, 1986._

Millions of feelings manifested in Jill’s chest, rising to squeeze her throat painfully. It was an instantaneous maelstrom of chaos and complexity, flooding the cavities of her body and buzzing around her skull without forgiveness. 

Still, despite that she had just—for all intents and purposes—managed to suffer through the entire range of human emotion in under a minute, the only one she was able to bring to name was pure, unadulterated shock.

Hand freezing on the handle, her toes dug into the rug beneath her feet. Her mouth fell ajar slightly, and none of her attempts to close it were successful. She was at a complete loss for what to say, utterly unable to compute the fact that Val was actually standing here, before her. 

The only thing she recognized—the only thing she  _ wanted _ to understand—was that she had missed everything about the other woman so terribly. 

But perhaps she was also experiencing relief. It had been so long since Jill had heard from her that it was no exaggeration to say that she had worried herself sick. She had no clue where Val had gone, or if she’d even had the funds to keep herself safe. 

Truly, it wasn’t until she was revisited with her presence that she comprehended just how deafening the silence had been. 

As far as Jill could tell, however, she  _ was _ safe. She looked entirely unharmed, actually. It was as much as she could ask for. 

In fact, the sole difference between Valerie now and the girl from ten days ago was that this version actually appeared well put together. 

Admittedly, she didn’t really look any different. Not substantially, at least. 

Her hair was still its same soft, pale blonde; her eyes the same piercing silver. Her cheeks were reddened from the cold, pushing the explosion of freckles that splattered over the skin of her face to the forefront. She was still windswept; dazzling.

But her expression was apprehensive, and everything about that didn’t sit right with Jill. Nothing ever fazed Valerie. Nothing got under her skin. 

Not until him.

“Hey.” Jill whispered, in an attempt to diffuse the tension. Unlike with Izzy, the greeting wasn’t phrased as a question. 

“Hi.” Val replied, automatically. She looked around the apartment briefly before dragging her rigid gaze back to Jill. “Can I come in?”

“You don’t have to ask.” Jill stepped back, allowing the other girl to pass through. 

If Val had something to say about that, she kept it to herself. She simply pursed her vibrant red lips and stood idle in the center of the room.

After she closed the door, Jill wrapped her sweater tighter around her body and walked into the gathering area. She didn’t like how small Valerie looked in this moment, as though she was a stranger in her own home. 

Then Jill berated herself mentally. If she had made any progress with accepting the undeniable reality that Valerie had made solid steps towards moving out, it was all undone her appearance here tonight. Without thought, hopes of reconciliation plastered the walls of her brain from every angle. 

“So—” Jill began, just as Valerie opened her mouth to speak. 

“Oh, no, you go.” They replied instinctively, in unison.

“You first,” Jill overruled. 

“Alright,” Valerie exhaled. She reached up and brushed a stray piece of her hair away, tucking it behind her ear. “Did you have a good birthday?” 

Jill didn’t have to force her head to immediately nod. 

“Yeah. It was—it was  _ different _ , but it was good. A few of my coworkers put together a few things and made a day of it, then Izzy swung by for dinner.” 

Now, it was Valerie’s turn to look surprised. “He did?” 

“You actually probably just missed him, but yeah. He stopped by with food from that corner Thai place—”

“Your favorite.” She interrupted. 

“Lucky guess, I suppose.” Jill smiled. “He had a few things to drop off from the other guys, too, which was...really nice, actually.” 

“Oh, I bet.” 

For the first time since she’d walked in, Valerie grinned. It was enough to light up the room, to reduce the glimmer of the lamps and the candles to dull glows. “And your family?” 

“Same as always.” Jill shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about that. 

Valerie understood. “Could be worse.” 

“I guess.” 

The space between them fell quiet—though not of the good sort; of the sort that used to fill the apartment when they lived together. This was suffocating and strained, the gap only widening as the clock ticked on. 

They had become estranged, and what remained of their friendship had gotten lost in translation. 

There was so much that Jill wanted to question. 

She wanted to know everything about the days lost, and she wanted to scream her voice raw—because she was still so damn concerned. She wanted to get on her knees and beg her best friend to stay, no matter how pathetic it was. She wanted to apologize. 

God, she wanted to apologize so fucking badly.

But she didn’t know how to do any of that, nor what order to do it in, so she stayed quiet. 

Valerie then abruptly raised her hand and brought into view another gift. Jill didn’t have to think to know that her short window had closed; the opportunity was now gone forever. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” Jill mumbled. 

“Yes I did.” Valerie retorted before handing it to her. 

Jill remained conscious of the way her hands avoided the other girl’s freckled ones. Like always, her long nails were painted a deep crimson. 

Jill also missed the way that her nail polish bottles would line up along the sink, after Val would undoubtedly forget to put them away. It was the little things like that, the minor trivialities that came with living with someone else, that she mourned the loss of the most. 

Glancing down at the box, she frowned. It was covered in a beautiful golden foil, pieced together immaculately. Val must have had it wrapped professionally. Another thing Jill didn’t deserve.

Taped to the top of the box was a thick, unmarked creme envelope. 

“But if it makes you feel any better, I already had it by the time that—” Valerie trailed off, tucking her hands into the pockets of the leather jacket. 

Jill nodded numbly, catching onto her point immediately. 

The elephant in the room was stifling, but she didn’t know how to handle it. Even if the conversation had seemingly flowed without obstruction up to this point, it was clear that they weren’t okay. 

There was too much that was going unspoken, that the two of them were deliberately shoving down. Jill’s lip began to quiver. 

Valerie knocked her knees together, crawling in upon herself. 

It didn’t matter that they were in the dead of autumn. She was still dressed in the same skirt that barely fell past the middle of her thighs. Ed hadn’t changed either, it seemed. 

Nothing about the world was changing except for them. 

Sensing that they had both reached the end of this unexpected line, Jill sighed. “Well, thank you. I know it couldn’t have been easy to stop by, considering...everything, really.” 

Val’s eyes softened, turning large and vulnerable. “I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way.” 

“I know.” Jill responded gravelly. Her voice wobbled as the skin of her throat seemed to thicken.

“I mean it, Jill.” She stated. “I want to figure things out, but I just—everything’s so fucked right now. I can’t.” 

She stood up straighter, her hands growing clammy around the box. Her fingers were slick against the shiny paper. “You can’t? Or you won’t?” 

“I  _ can’t _ .” 

Her tone was stern; final. 

Before Jill even had time to readjust, her body slouched once more. She felt like a stringless marionette. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me. It’s been a really—”

“I know.” Valerie mirrored, brushing her off. “But it’s just too much right now.” 

Jill simply tipped her head in acknowledgement, unable to meet her eye. She didn’t possess that strength. 

Yet, she was a patient woman. If time was what Val needed, Jill could wait. 

She would wait.

“I get it.” Jill quipped lightly before growing somber. “So you’re not coming home anytime soon, yeah?” 

The blonde woman’s expression became sad, the corners of her mouth dipping downward. Jill had her answer before Valerie had even pieced together the reply. 

“Okay.”

“I just don’t know.” Valerie stated, in tandem. Her words were meek, and Jill hated that she had shrunk her. 

“Valerie, it’s okay. Just take the time you need. I fucked up and  _ I _ know that now. I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“I just need time.” 

“And that’s okay, really. I’m serious. Just—forget I said anything.” Jill assured her, before biting down on her tongue. 

She needed to develop a filter. Quickly, too. Her inability to control what she said was only making things worse.

“Okay, well.” Valerie slapped her hands against the tops of her thighs. “I really just wanted to come by and drop that off.” 

“You can’t stay?” Jill could feel the disappointment leaking into her tone, but she didn’t care. No matter what, she was powerless to stop it. 

Her head shook almost instantly. “Not tonight. My shift starts in an hour, anyway. I’ve got to get back.” 

“Oh, alright. Thank you, again. For the gift.” She replied, then added, “It was good to see you, too.” 

“Don’t thank me.” Valerie smiled tightly before walking herself back to the door. Her scuffed sneakers clashed with the pristine fabric of the rug. “Although, you’ll read the card before you open the gift, won’t you?”

Her tone was soft and expectant. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Jill leaned over and placed the package on the small table nearest the door. It was stalling, plain and simple, but she wasn’t ready to watch her leave again. Not after she had just managed to get her  _ back _ . 

On some unconscious level, however, she was fully accepting of the fact that she had to. It was more than clear that Valerie wasn’t ready to touch back down here; as though the obligation of Jill’s birthday had been a final loose end that she was tying up before she disappeared forever. 

To the very base of her bones, she fucking hated this. She loathed that she could feel Valerie slipping through her fingers like wet sand. It was as though she was made of smoke and Jill was a torn, perforated screen.

She suddenly felt pained, and stuck, and so goddamn helpless. 

And she hadn’t a clue about how to tell her. 

If she did, she supposed she would have apologized before Val had even had a chance to walk away those ten days ago. 

This was it, though. They’d come down to the final wire and Jill was afraid. 

She hadn’t jumped before the track had ended and now she was stranded; isolated. Valerie had hit the ground running and was ready to fly. This was the end. 

But then Val did something that shook Jill to her very core. Before she reached the door, she pivoted back around and opened her arms slightly. Her face was open, free of the tension that had marred it since she’d arrived. 

Giving herself no time for second thought, Jill stepped into the hug. She had to bend her knees somewhat, considering that Valerie was a handful of inches shorter than her, but that didn’t prevent the tears from returning.

She tried to stifle them quickly, but it was no use. They wouldn’t be going anywhere soon this time. 

It was only a marginal consolation when she heard Valerie sniffle, too. Knowing that she was hurting alongside her didn’t really soothe her soul in the slightest. If anything, it just caused her to squeeze her eyes together harder and bite down on her lip. It was the only way in which she’d stay intact. 

Valerie’s hands were wrapped around her upper back, her skin cold. It was another thing that hadn’t changed. 

Her suspicions were definitely true. Nothing had really changed  _ about _ them, had it? 

Rather, simply everything  _ between _ them. 

The thought smashed her resolve into pieces and she broke away from Val’s hold. Jill was weak and she knew it.

She was also so goddamn sorry. 

Stepping back, she ran the backs of her hands beneath her eyes. 

“Just tell me you’re doing okay, please?” Jill begged, meeting her cracked steely gaze. 

Valerie released a wet laugh and inhaled shakily before also wiping at her eyes. She was careful to keep her make-up unsmudged. 

Jill wouldn’t let her leave without knowing that she was safe, though, so she carried on; entirely undeterred. “He’s treating you well and you’re staying safe, right?” 

Her smile slipped and she nodded, growing serious. “Yeah.” 

A stark reminder bloomed in the forefront of her mind. She had to trust that Valerie could make the right decisions for herself. 

So she released a sigh of relief and allowed her eyes to drift closed. “Okay.” 

When she opened them once more, the other girl was halfway out the door. Her skin looked almost yellow in the dingy lighting of the hallway. His jacket seemed to swallow her whole. 

She wasn’t frail, nor was she unbreakable. She was just Valerie. And, now, she was leaving forever. 

The knowledge that this very well could have been the last look Jill would ever get of her was almost as painful as the idea of not knowing where she was headed. Yet, as Val sunk further down the stretch of the hallway, she had already managed to slip back into the role she had picked up over the summer; a flickering halo of darkness and unabridged excitement. A wisp of reckless hedonism.

Valerie twisted on her ankle abruptly, teetering wildly. She threw her hands out for purchase, but drew blanks. Her dark make-up was smeared over her eyes like plumes of ash and her blonde hair was piled high. This was how Jill wanted to remember her; when she was living loud like a beauty-queen reject. 

In that moment, she looked truly so fucking alive. 

“Happy birthday, Jill.” Valerie drawled. 

Her syllables were rough and extended. For a brief moment, the Southern twang that always quietly laced her words was violently omnipresent. 

God, it would be so hard to live without her. 

But there was no option left but to figure it out, because then she was gone, having turned the corner in the undoubtable pursuit of the elevator. 

And there Jill was again. Alone.

_ Always alone. _

She closed the door quietly in her wake before picking up the gift from the table. For some odd reason, it made sense that this would be the last thing she opened; as both closure to the night, and to other, greater things. 

Jill carried the items to the couch and settled down. The telenovela was still playing, and had been this whole time. Blindly, she grappled for the remote and powered the television off. The only sound she wanted in accompaniment was the one of her own shaky breath patterns. 

She peeled the envelope from the box, surprised when it came away heavy. It was at least as thick as her littlest finger. The notion engulfed her heart in a tidal wave of anxiety.

Breathing was a manual process now. Her chest felt like it was being crushed by bricks. She wasn’t ready, and she’d never be, but this was it. She could very well confront reality later, yet it wasn’t like it was ever going to change. 

That realization was enough to give her the strength to flip it over and pull the lip back. Carefully, she withdrew the card. It was another store-bought one, covered in pastel flowers and a generic celebratory message. 

This couldn’t have been what Valerie had told her to prioritize, was it? 

And then she opened it, and she knew immediately that it was not. Because what outpoured was a stack of folded, slightly crumpled sheets of paper. 

_ Oh.  _

Valerie may not have stayed for long, but she still cared enough to leave Jill with this final piece of her. It was so much more than a birthday card. 

It was a goodbye.

The pages shook in her hands, her fingers digging into the paper. She didn’t want to do this, but she had to.

She  _ had _ to. 

Unfolding the bundle, she drank in the sight of Valerie’s dark, tight cursive. The ink was smeared in some places—with long since dried tears and, also, the customary drag that came from being left-handed. 

Jill had never seen her writing under such circumstances. It had only been scratched loosely onto small cards of paper as she explained her whereabouts for the night, or scribbled onto grocery lists, where she would highlight and star the items she wanted Jill to remember most. 

It was still her hand here, unquestionably, but it was all wrong. Everything about this was so wrong. 

It was also made incurably worse by the notion that there was absolutely no fixing it, either. Valerie had slammed the door behind her and locked it. Jill had somehow lost the key in the days gone by.

She sniffled and sat up. If she didn’t read the letter now, she would never again find the strength to do so. Jill could feel herself losing composure slowly; unsteadily. Her poise was falling away, dripping down her legs to pool at her feet. 

_ Damn it, Val. _

Her eyes blurred with blinding tears before they had even scraped over the first line. Jill gave no thought to the idea of ever returning when she eventually lost herself in the writing. 

_ Jill,  _

_ I’m writing this out now, mostly because I know I’ll never be able to say these things in person. You know me, I’ve always been shit at expressing myself.  _

_ Though, if I’m being honest, I still sometimes think that you’re the only person who really understood that. Or tried to, at least.  _

_ I’m also not sure if I’ll ever be able to fucking finish this, but if I do, you won’t be reading it for another few days. I really don’t even know if I’m strong enough to put everything I want onto this paper. If Axl wasn’t asleep right now, I know he’d find a way to talk me down from giving into this fucking shit that I’m feeling right now.  _

_ But he’s not, and that’s all it is. Fucking shit.  _

_ I guess I should start out by saying that I’m sorry for the things I said. You made me so fucking angry that day—angrier than I think I’ve ever been. And I want to be able to tell you this in person, but I can’t. All jokes about my shitty communication skills aside, I’m still so mad. I’m still hurt, too, just like I was hurting then. _

_ So I said things. Things I definitely meant, but things that I wish I hadn’t said.  _

_ These past few months have been fucking hell, I can’t deny that. I’d be the worst friend to ignore that I’ve been all over the place. I know I’ve never been easy to deal with. I’ve been up and down, in and out—and everything in between. I want to thank you for taking care of me when I couldn’t.  _

_ When he didn’t.  _

_ But you fucked up this time, Jill. You did. And I’m trying my hardest to see everything from your point of view, but I can’t. After you told me that you don’t regret anything, I don’t know if I really want to, either. You were mean and you took it too fucking far. You went over the line.  _

_ I’ve kept myself up all week trying to justify your words, but it’s pointless. What you said was wrong, and there’s no way around that. It breaks my heart to know that you hated him enough to even think it in the first place.  _

_ You’ve said you’re just looking out for me, but I don’t feel protected by you. I feel betrayed. I’m almost sure it would have hurt less if you just told me to my face instead of pretending like everything was okay for so long.  _

_ You hate him, and I can’t blame you for that. That’s not why I’m angry. But I will blame you for the fact that I had to find out how you felt about him through him. The damage you did was bad enough, but forcing him to tell me the things you’d said? You’re cruel as hell for that.  _

_ I know it probably looks like I’ve lost myself to him—or given myself over to a man, like I always swore I would never do again. And after everything that I’ve told you about myself, I guess I can’t fault you for being protective. But I do anyway. Because I think what you said wasn’t looking out for me at all. Not even close. I think you just wanted to hurt him, and you knew that I was the best way to do that. You weren’t fucking protecting me, you were just using me as leverage. You were the one that used me. Not him.  _

_ When I went to bed on Thursday night, after he’d left you and found me, I told myself that this all might have been my fault, that maybe I shouldn’t have assumed that everybody would understand the way that I feel about him.  _

_ But, fuck, Jill. It’s obvious that you can’t read me as well as I thought you could, so let me write it out.  _

_ I love him. I love him right now and I’ll love him by the time you read this bitch of a letter. I’ll probably be loving him fifty years from whenever that is, too. I don’t want to beat myself up because you don’t see that anymore, either. It’s not my fucking problem. It took me this long to realize that it really never had been. _

_ Yet even if it was the easiest thing I’ve ever done, I know that he’s a hard man to love. To like, even. I know that he’s mean, and I know that he makes things hard on fucking purpose. I know that he’s loud and annoying, and rude, too. And I guess it doesn’t matter that I’ve learned things about him that explain it (even though not knowing any of it wouldn’t change the way I feel), because I forget that not everybody knows him like I do.  _

_ He trusts me with a lot of things and he forgets that he doesn’t trust others.  _

_ Though I think the reason why he doesn’t is because of people like you. It’s because of all the shit people have to say that he doesn’t ever let others in.  _

_ I saw this on day one, but he’s sort of like me in that aspect, I think.  _

_ Then again, maybe not. I had you, too; I’ve told you most of everything. You’re one of my greatest support systems, you know. I’ll never forget that you were my first real one, either. I can promise you that.  _

_ Are you aware that I’m all he’s got, though? He hides himself away from the guys because he’s afraid that they won’t understand. His family life is fucking shit. It always has been. The world hates him for things that are out of his control and he’s got nobody, Jill. Nobody except me.  _

_ He’s trying his goddamn best and it seems like I’m the only one who sees that. I’ve never once questioned him. I’ve never once thought that he was lying, or pretending to be somebody that he wasn’t.  _

_ On Friday, I questioned you.  _

_ It was the first time I regretted letting you in. Whoever it was that I was talking to in the kitchen that day, it wasn’t you. Were you pretending then? Or just every moment before that?  _

_ Now, I don’t ever want it to seem like I’m choosing him over you, because I’m never gonna fucking do that. I’m so damn angry with you, but it doesn’t erase that you mean the world to me.  _

_ Yet the way you set everything up makes it look like that’s what you wanted from me. I can’t help but think you want me to choose. So I’ll tell you this: if the choice was between the version of you that I left in the kitchen and the version of him that I’ve come home to right now, you’re not going to like my answer.  _

_ I’m not sorry. _

_ Although I don’t want to believe that’s who you are. Not only were you my first support system, you were my first real friend. For that alone, you’re everything.  _

_ I mean, God, I’ve been sitting in this same chair for the past hour, writing you this letter with this cheap pen that hurts my hand, because you mean so much to me. And I want so badly to fix things, but I don’t know how.  _

_ (I don’t think I ever prepared for this, maybe. I’m still so fucking uncomfortable with the idea that not everything between us is okay.)  _

_ Really, it’s taking everything out of me to be upset with you.  _

_ But I am upset. I’m so, so, so angry.  _

_ You were so fucking wrong about me, that’s mostly why. After hearing the things you had to say about me—both to my face and to him—I can’t help but feel misread. It feels like you pulled the rug from beneath me. It’s like you just went on acting like you got me more than you ever actually did.  _

_ Did you ever fucking know me?  _

_ I’m so much more than you think I am. I’m so much fucking more. I’ve got dreams, just like you do. And I want to be loved, just like you do.  _

_ Fuck you for thinking you had any say on how I choose to do that.  _

_ I left home because of that, you know. The world was suffocating me there. The people were, too. I came to the biggest and brightest damn city I could because I wanted to be somewhere that I felt free.  _

_ It doesn’t matter that the way I learned to feel that freedom has changed over time.  _

_ When I first met you, it was something that I needed to find for myself. There were still things about myself that I was figuring out—the way I felt about this new start, for the most part. But also the way that I felt about the world and the people in it.  _

_ Things are different now and I couldn’t tell you why. He changed everything. _

_ So, yeah, maybe I make shitty decisions. I know you’re scared for me. I fucked up with the coke, but nothing came of it, did it? I can’t help but think that you and Axl are both hypocrites for the way you treated me after that, actually.  _

_ How am I any different from Izzy? Slash? Steven? _

_ I also can’t get rid of the idea that you have this great idea of what I’m supposed to be, or that you hold me to different standards sometimes. I’m so damn tired of trying to live up to the standards that I know I’ll never meet. Most of all, I just want to be left alone.  _

_ I don’t have to question whether you understand that or not. I know why you left home.  _

_ I just feel like I can’t even have fucking fun anymore, that’s how bad it is. I know I drink a lot, and handle it a lot better than somebody like me should. But, God, that’s fun to me. It’s the only way I’ve learned to let go, Jill, and it kills me that you’ve turned that against me—that you’ve blamed it on him.  _

_ My ways may not be the best, but they work. Until I figure out something better, they’re gonna keep working, too.  _

_ Look. What I needed more than anything was a space to just figure shit out on my own. That’s why this hurts so much. The worst thing about this whole fucking thing is that I thought that the apartment was that space. I was wrong.  _

_It’s not anymore, and I don’t think it will be for a while._ _  
__Whatever. I know I’ll figure it out. I always do._

_ But I feel so fucking lost. _

_ You’re wrong about him, though. And I don’t care how many times I have to say it. I love him.  _

_ You obviously don’t fucking think so, but he makes me feel more loved and more wanted than anybody else ever has. He makes me feel good. He makes me feel like I’m not a second-rate choice.  _

_ I didn’t think that he would ever mean so much to me, but he does. He’s the first person that doesn’t make being myself feel like a chore. He knows how to handle me. He understands me.  _

_ Maybe I just wish there was a way for you to see him through my eyes. Maybe that’s the only way you would ever understand. Because there’s no other way you’d ever get to see the nights that we’ve spent just talking.  _

_ Because we do that, you know. Talk. I’m not his whore, and I never have been.  _

_ (Even if I was, though, it wouldn’t be your place to fucking speak.) _

_ We talk about everything, and we talk about nothing. We get up and eat breakfast together. He kisses me before I leave for work. I nag him about ironing his clothes, even if he never does. Just because you’ve chosen to focus on the bad days doesn’t mean we don’t have good ones.  _

_ Shit, I feel like such a bitch.  _

_ Listen, Jill. I love you. And you’ve helped me in ways that I’ll never fully get. But there’s something so indescribable about him. He understands what eats me up inside without even trying. _

_ I don’t have to ask if you understand that, because I’m so damn certain that you do. You tried your best with me, but we both know that my shit was too much to handle. Don’t think that I don’t know that.  _

_ (And I don’t say that to make you feel bad, because I know that you probably wished that I was able to relate a little harder to the things that keep you up at night, too.) _

_ Regardless of all the rage that I’m feeling right now, I can’t wait for you to find that one day.  _

_ What you don’t seem to get, though, is that I have found that. You’ve made it painfully clear that you won’t accept it, no matter what I say, but...Axl, fuck—I think he’s the world. I know he’s it for me. _

_ With him, it’s not about anything but him. That’s what you’re choosing to ignore. It’s not about the fucking coke, or the booze, or any of the other cheap thrills. It’s barely about the shows, and it’s so much more than the sex. (Though I can’t say that that’s nothing, because it’s not. It’s something that I can’t talk about yet, but I just know that it’s important. Somehow. He makes me feel.) _

_ It’s about the fact that I can stop pretending like I’m not fucked up. I don’t have to act like my life so far hasn’t messed me up. We have that in common. His life has also treated him like shit. He’s more than it, of course, but he uses it and makes something out of it. I want that for me, too, Jill. I want to be something good and I want to be something that matters.  _

_ I’m never going to actually choose between him and you. I’m not going to explain myself to you, and I’m not going to give you up for him. I’ll only stay around if I get both. I don’t care how damn selfish it is. I don’t want a world where I can’t have both.  _

_ Don’t I deserve both? _

_ But it makes me so fucking mad that you think he’s only out to hurt me.  _

_ Do you really think he’s so bad? Do you genuinely think he’s going to kill me? That he has no intentions other than to bring me harm? _

_ Or do you just hate that I’m making choices that you wouldn’t?  _

_ Out of everything that was said, I know that’s what hurt him the most, by the way. Your insistence that he was a fucking danger absolutely wrecked him. I know you know that. Just for that, I don’t think I’ll ever fully forgive you.  _

_ I’m not even sure if you want my forgiveness, though. You weren’t remorseful. You were so cold that day. It was like talking to a stranger.  _

_ He’s not my only choice, but he’s still a choice that I’ve made. For as long as he lets me, he’s a choice that I’m going to keep making, because I want to. It doesn’t matter how much I value your opinions. When everything is said and done, I’m going to be the one to make my own decisions. I’m never going to change my mind on that for anybody.  _

_ Not for my mother, not for you, and certainly not for him.  _

_ Well, hold on. Can I be honest for a moment?  _

_ Every time somebody thinks they know what’s best for me, I feel a piece of me die. The pain is physical and I feel it take over. That blame isn’t just on you, of course, and I don’t want you to ever think that it is. It’s also on my parents. It’s on Danny.  _

_ God, so much of it’s on him.  _

_ It’s on Axl, too.  _

_ They’re all guilty.  _

_ And I know it seems like I don’t think and that I’m stupidly reckless, but it’s only because this is the first time that I feel like I’m living. Twenty-two years on this goddamn planet and it’s as though I’ve only been alive for the last two of them. _

_ Isn’t that odd?  _

_ It’s crazy how far you can travel before you realize you’ve even left in the first place. I was like a dead woman walking. I’m just trying so hard to catch up.  _

_ Sometimes I feel so fucking far behind. _

_ I wish I would have stayed longer to explain myself, like I told myself I was going to do on the way there. I wish we would have been more open before any of this blew up, like we were before I met him. (Like we were that night on the beach). _

_ I wish that you would have been comfortable enough to come talk to me when he was being an ass, or when he was making things difficult. I wish that I would have told you more about the good moments between him and I; the ones that far outweigh the bad.  _

_ By only giving you a negative picture of us, I guess I set myself up for that one.  _

_ But that doesn’t erase the things that were said.  _

_ This doesn’t get rid of the fact that you’re one of the most important people in my life and that I still think you’re, by far, the most wonderful person I’ll ever meet. I’m just not sure of how to face you right now. I don’t know how to look at you the same. You’re so goddamn different.  _

_ How come you’re the only one that’s allowed to change?  _

_ I don’t hate you, but I don’t know how to feel about you currently. I don’t know how to act around you, either. Not when you’ve reduced me to somebody that I haven’t been in so long.  _

_ True happiness is snuffing blow in a dirty bathroom and fucking him in a back alleyway, right?  _

_ Really?  _

_ God, fuck. This letter hasn’t helped at all. All it’s caused is more anger, and also a bitch of a cramp in my hand. Maybe I won’t even give this to you. I’ll probably just burn it instead. _

_ Whatever. _

_ You’re my best friend, Jill. No matter how things stand between us right now, it doesn’t change that you understand me in ways that he simply never will. It’s purely because you met me first, too. There are areas that he might know me deeper in, sure, but you’ve known me longer in almost every one. That counts for something.  _

_ I swear to God, that means something to me. Even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.  _

_ I just need time and some space to think, okay? I need to get my life together with him, because he’s a part of it now. I need to find what I need, as well, because it apparently causes problems when I don’t know.  _

_ I’ll be back, though. And you can consider this letter your proof, or whatever. I just don’t know when.  _

_ But when I do, and if you’ll still have me, I want to come home.  _

_ I’ll understand if you don’t think we can make this work, of course—or I’ll try my best to, at least. Alright?  _

_ Until then.  _

_ Love, Val _

Jill didn’t look up until she had finished the letter. 

When she did, she was crying so hard she could barely see. The physical droplets of her sadness fell onto the pages, muddling the words even further. 

The ache in her head was splitting, the ache in her heart even more so. 

And she couldn’t identify what she was feeling, probably because it was a mix of everything. There was a thick remorse that was dredged up beneath the lash of Valerie’s anger, and an overwhelming sadness at the pierce of her desperation. Yet, it was true that the most potent of all was the consuming relief that rushed to her limbs.

Valerie would be back. 

She hadn’t lost her forever. 

Slightly, the weight on her chest lifted. Jill folded the pages and turned them over in her hands. Quickly, another paragraph caught her eye. One she hadn’t thought to check for before. She scanned over it rapidly.

_ P.S. Happy birthday.  _

_ (I know this isn’t what you expected, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate, but I hope the gift gives off that message better than this letter did.)  _

She cracked a small smile and turned to the present by her side, taking care to lay the letter gently on the coffee table. The gift had sat largely forgotten, its gold wrapping glinting in the lamplight.

Lifting it onto her lap, Jill peeled the paper back carefully. The box was white and unmarked—completely blank. She didn’t know what to expect and that unnerved her. Maybe she was overthinking it. It would have been nothing new, if she was. 

Jill flipped the lid and pulled away the soft pink tissue paper. Immediately, her heart dropped into her stomach.

It was a jewelry box, just like the one that Val used to own. Just like the one she and Izzy had cleaned up from her bedroom floor. 

She raised it out of the packaging gently and studied it. It was nearly identical to the other one. The only exception was the stained glass pieces that covered the outer shell. 

Whereas Valerie’s was made of warm-toned hues; vibrant honeys, tangerines, and rouges, Jill’s was pieced together in cool-toned ones. The mosaic was made of brilliant cobalts and seafoams and violets. It looked like the ocean through a kaleidoscope. 

Jill flipped the latch and examined the soft, blue velvet interior. It was of the perfect size to place her most prized pairs of earrings. Deeper meaning aside, Val had known exactly what she’d needed. Her other jewelry box, a basic wooden thing from her grandmother, was beginning to overflow.

That Valerie had purchased it prior to the fight was a bittersweet reality. It gave way to the idea that she had intended to match; as if they would both hold pieces of each other on their dressers at all times.

But Jill’s half was shattered now, and there was nothing she could do about it. It would have to be enough to treasure what she could with what she now had. 

It seemed that was all she could do with the entire situation, really. 

The only thing Jill was certain of was that her friendship with Valerie wasn’t over. That was more than she had known at the beginning of the night. 

They may have been at a standstill currently, but it wasn’t going to last forever. 

Releasing a soft breath, she placed the letter inside the jewelry box and clamped it closed. For now, it was enough to leave the mess—all the confusion, anger, and fucking pain—locked away in this heart outside her body. 

It was safe there. 


	22. she talks to angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw: brief drug usage

_ Monday, October 13th, 1986. _

The elevator ride downwards felt like a descent into hell. Oxygen left Valerie’s lungs like a mass exodus, crawling away on its hands and knees. It took everything within her to remain upright. She could sense herself gradually slipping, her sanity circling the drain. 

What hadn’t internally fallen apart when she’d left Jill’s apartment after the first fight was shattered now. Her heart had been scooped out by her best friend’s bare hands and crushed to a pulp. There was nothing left in Val’s chest. She was an aching, shallow shell. She felt like she was dying. 

Playing the part of a woman with full composure had been one of her best performances yet. She had somehow managed to keep herself laced together for the entirety of the time she had spent in the apartment—a total of eleven brain-splintering minutes—but it was crumbling now. She couldn’t escape the harrowing realization that she had never felt so lost and so out of place in her life. 

All of the other times she had experienced such desperation could at least be backed up with a firm determination. There was nearly always a fire burning beneath her feet when she’d needed it most; it’s what pushed her to follow through with her plans more often than not.

The hearth was dry tonight. Valerie was left in the cold. 

And it was especially painful purely because nobody was icing her out of the friendship but herself. It was her; her, and her maddening inability to climb off the defensive, that was preventing them from a solved conflict. Jill had pushed her too far. The hurt ran too deep. Her peace of mind was more fractured than she’d ever expected it to be. 

She didn’t see a way to release the pain that lingered over the idea that she felt so thoroughly cheated by Jill’s actions. In some loose sense of the term, it was as though she had been led on. A real issue just now arose in trying to distinguish when the shift in the atmosphere had taken place. 

Did Jill flip only when Val had brought Axl home for the second time? Or had the makings of the explosion been lurking subtly throughout the entirety of the eight months that the two of them had lived together? 

Whatever it was, she likened it to being lulled into a false sense of security. Valerie was always the perpetual lamb coming home for the slaughter. 

Except, this time, she had no home and she wasn’t even sure if she still bled red. 

It was one thing for her mother to deny her a chance to simply  _ be _ , and another for Danny to completely reject what she was in favor of reshaping it to fit his desires. But there was something so inexplicably excruciating about being led to believe she was safe, only to find out she was anything but.

This wasn’t even about Axl anymore. He had managed to push himself away from the tight, blistering anger days ago. All that was left for him was the purposeful effort to keep Jill’s name from his mouth. He didn’t talk about her, and if he was still at all bothered by her words, he didn’t show it. 

If he was willing to let it go, Valerie probably should have too.

However, she couldn’t. It was impossible to relinquish the omnipresent reminder that Jill was fundamentally opposed to what Val needed most: unbridled fucking freedom. The weight of that fury was like a ball and chain around her ankle. 

Or it  _ had _ been, at least. Up until a few minutes ago, it had been a nonstop struggle to break free of that shackle. She supposed that she was free now, but only vaguely. The price of that liberty was high and her vault was wholly empty. It was like she had traded the old cuffs for a different, tighter pair. Everything hurt worse when she had nobody left to blame but herself. 

Valerie knew that she had most likely signed a deal with the devil when she had handed over the card to Jill. What was enclosed within those pages was a liquified version of the contents of her heart. It was the decaying black sludge that poisoned her brain and tainted her fingertips. It was everything she hadn’t managed to tell Jill on that Friday, mostly because it wasn’t until her pen touched down onto the paper that she had even articulated it for herself. 

Hell, she was convinced that the reason the argument went so fucking far south was that she hadn’t planned what she wanted to say. She worked her way into the apartment, eyes ablaze, with no set hold on what it was she had even wanted Jill to know. All she had recognized then was that the man she loved was sat tucked away, metaphorically broken and bleeding. 

She had wanted Jill to pay for ripping open his scars by slashing some of her own into the girl’s skin. It was a decision that Val did not yet regret, but she definitely mourned that she seemed to have ripped open the stitches of her own in the meantime. There was so much anguish bubbling to the surface, ripe and agonizing. She had not felt so tortured since the months leading up to the night she left the soil of West Plains. 

The walls of the elevator surrounded her like a death trap. They boxed her in, washing her in her own misery. 

She wanted to return to the apartment, but there was something about the knowledge that she most definitely  _ could _ —either by her lonesome or with Axl curled against her side—that she found herself unable to commit. Valerie couldn’t cope with the conclusion that both Jill and Axl no longer felt so passionately about what was devouring her whole. She wasn’t ready to acknowledge that she was affected too deeply by this. 

After just allowing her emotions to unfold, she didn’t want to admit that she had been navigating them wrong. She wasn’t ready to hide them away once more because, if she did, she was positive that they would never make a reappearance. She was so instinctively certain that she couldn’t ever live like that again. 

Not when Jill had been the one that managed to coax her out of her fortified shelter in the first place. Not after Axl fought tooth and nail to keep her there; to keep her open. 

She couldn’t possibly go back to the way it was.

But then, as the familiar pressure of her dropping stomach kicked in at the start of the elevator’s trip downwards, she questioned that. 

Maybe the reason she had survived so long in Missouri was that she absorbed everything and never let it escape. She took it in, dragged it down, and smothered it. Not feeling was  _ hard _ , but so was being hurt. And she could hide those mental wounds much easier than she could any other type. 

All pain was a burden, she knew that, but Valerie had been put in a position where she had to pick and choose her battles too many times. Each and every time, she had been pressured into choosing the one that had her shouldering the brunt of the weight. Internalizing it, too. Eventually, it was just easier that way.

It was like she had written to Jill; her methods may not have been the best, but they were successful.

Weaning herself off emotions had simply been a coping mechanism then, but it had worked for a reason, hadn’t it? She was here today because of it, wasn’t she? 

For the first twenty years of her life, that façade had been the fire beneath her feet. It’s what had driven her to Los Angeles. 

To some extent, it was what had brought her to Axl.

With him, things had changed. His miraculous ability to feel so powerfully and so openly had struck a nerve within her, resounding powerfully in her previously fossilized heart. Valerie could recall wanting that so badly for herself; that ability to  _ feel _ without shame. It was because of him that she had quickly convinced herself to leave her heart susceptible to emotion. 

After all, it  _ had _ been her reckless audacity to feel so brashly for him that had run them into trouble initially. 

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she just felt too much for him. 

Visions of him suddenly filled her head and then she got to thinking about him— _ really _ thinking about him. 

She saw him, in all his blazing glory, plastered across the uncontained span of her mind. From all angles, he existed in her mental sphere, his hair aflame and his jade-toned eyes soft. She could feel the phantom pad of his thumb, thick and heavy, slide across the reddened skin of her bottom lip. She could hear his intoxicatingly deep voice fill the crevices of her senses like a whispered symphony.

Her head abruptly shook of its own volition. Her brain protested. 

There was absolutely no way that she could give up the way he made her feel. Not for any goddamn price in the world. 

He wasn’t the one causing the suffering. The world was just too clearly out to tear her apart. He was the good amongst all the bad. Valerie would take the pain with wide-open arms if it meant she could experience, in full, how he set her aglow. 

But this change of heart wouldn’t last too long, not if she didn’t find her way back to him soon.

She glanced down at her watch. Her shift started in exactly fifty-seven minutes. That was more than enough time to get home and fall apart before him. He knew how to put her back together and he did it with ease. She would be in and out in minutes, she was sure of that. She just needed space to touch base and decompress. 

She harbored no qualms about this. Valerie was no longer afraid to be vulnerable in front of him. He held what she couldn’t—and the Lord knew she had been carrying far too much for far too long. He was a safe haven. She was intricately drawn to him; beckoned home. 

The elevator doors opened and she broke into a jog. 

It seemed after recent events, nobody who worked in the lobby had the patience to cast her weird looks anymore. They simply let her breeze past with no more than a simple gaze in her general direction. 

Valerie slowed her pace when she made it outdoors, but only barely. The air was brisk and her skirt was impractical. The insulated lining of his jacket kept her arms and torso warm, but it was useless to protect her legs. Her teeth chattered violently.

God, it was so fucking cold.

Underneath the scope of the golden streetlights, her breath escaped in fogged puffs. It roused something in her brain. 

She searched around through his pockets until she located his lighter and half-crushed package of cigarettes. It was a new, albeit inconsistent, habit of hers. She pinched the smoke between her lips and brought the plastic lighter upward, the flame catching easily this time around. Though fleeting, the warmth the fire offered her cupped hand was enough to make her hesitant to kill it. She was shivering now, so arduously that she felt hollowed out. 

The sensation of the tepid vapor entering her lungs was a dizzying one. It was compressive but comfortable. Only distantly did Valerie acknowledge that it wasn’t doing anything to  _ actually _ warm her body. It didn’t matter. She was only a block or two away from the motel and an illusion was more than powerful enough to last her. 

The scent of the nicotine was a gentle companion as she carried herself to him. It was as though she could feel his inked arm draped around her waist, pulling her flush against him as they wandered back to their makeshift home. 

She wished he was here now. He always knew how to handle these sorts of situations. 

Then, Valerie laughed quietly to herself. Because, in all actuality, he didn’t. But he at least offered some sort of tangible reaction—a palpable release of tension. She just wanted to unearth herself from this persistent soul-crushing grievance. 

Her aspirations were worthless. She was overwhelmingly, bitterly, by her lonesome. 

And even if she was more accustomed to it now, she still didn’t like walking home alone. Every few exhales, she would toss her head over her shoulder and scan the scene. It turned up empty every time, but she couldn’t break the pattern. She was wound so tightly that she believed nearly anything would be enough to set her off. A distressing coil of thick anxiety had taken root in her stomach.

She had to find a way to distract herself or she’d go crazy. Taking another drag, she let her thoughts drift back to Jill. 

If she wasn’t mistaken, she was guessing that the other girl had most definitely broken into the letter by now. It left Val with an incomprehensible perception of being exposed, even if she didn’t take back her decision to give it to her. 

She didn’t think she ever would, really. At the request of Valerie’s lucidity, Jill needed to hear the words. It was just unfortunate that writing them out and delivering them in such a detached manner was the only way she was capable of getting them across.

Valerie was strong, but not faultlessly so. Her largest pitfall was making sense of the aftermath that solidified in the wake of losing trust in the first person she had been okay with handing it over to. 

Is this what she got for functioning like a fucking normal human being? Was this her punishment for actually opening up to others? Like a wilting rose, she felt her petals folding in on themselves. She wanted to sink to the floor and decay like a rotted blossom.

She had lost too much sleep worrying over how Jill would react to the contents of the letter, but she had pulled the trigger anyway. It was only another attempt to push the heavy bricks of stress off her chest. 

As it was, it was highly realistic that she might not have shared the writing for Jill’s benefit, but for her own selfish one. 

Valerie was okay with that. If nothing else, she thought that she deserved that ability to be selfish. Just this once. 

But regardless of the venom that she had smeared onto those damned pages, she didn’t want to hurt Jill any longer. She was so bone-achingly exhausted with all of the pain that had been passed between the two of them. 

She was confident that she had made her mark when she had spit those final remarks at her best friend on the day of the fight, either way. And she was also sure that her inability to accept Jill’s full invite tonight had only twisted the knife further. 

She hesitantly recalled how a brief flash of pain had covered Jill’s features. She had been able to mask it almost immediately, but Val still caught it. It had sent a blow to her stomach so visceral she had almost fallen to her knees right there and then, on Jill’s rug. She almost abandoned all of her reservations to stay after that. 

She halted in her tracks momentarily. The realization was abruptly and painstakingly unavoidable. Valerie’s indecisiveness was dangerous. 

Axl wasn’t the threat. He never had been. 

_ She was.  _

Val wasn’t able to separate herself from her own fucked up pain long enough to prevent it from seeping into the skin of others. Even if it wasn’t a long-lasting ache, like the one that always seemed to boil in her blood, it was an ache still. She was hurting people. 

Clenching her teeth, she picked up her pace.

By the time she reached the motel, her cigarette had dwindled to a stub and her energy was running low. She needed sleep. Or, perhaps, a good cry. 

Well, she couldn’t cry, could she? She glanced down. Her shift started in exactly forty-two minutes and she couldn’t mess up her make-up. Aside from the time she would need from Axl, the several-minute walk to Shirley’s was something that needed to be considered. She wouldn’t have time to fix it. 

Valerie may have been caving in on herself, but that didn’t mean that it had to be reflected outwardly. It always came down to the reality that things were fucking easier for her if they were kept locked away inside. 

She flicked the butt of the cigarette onto the pavement below and ground it out with the tip of her sneaker. Then, she dug through the pockets once more for the key, soon extracting it and twisting it rapidly into the lock. 

When she entered, an unease engulfed her insides and painted them in acid. There were no lights on. Everything was cloaked in thick darkness.

But she was certain that he had been here when she’d left. He had pushed her up against the door gently before she’d taken leave and kissed the tip of her nose, both hands clasped on either side of her face. His forehead had been pressed against hers. 

He had stood behind her the entire time she was getting ready, too. He had placed his hands on her waist one too many times to count when she had threatened to back out of stopping by the apartment. He had been a staunch voice of encouragement, a firm hand of guidance. A grounding force.

She needed it more now than she did then. 

Valerie wanted nothing more than to crawl into his arms and tuck her face into the swoop of his neck. She craved the sanctuary that the sensation of his hand wrapped around the back of her head provided. She needed his words, more than ever. He was irrational, too, but it was a different sort. Axl still knew how to make decisions when it came down to it. He knew how to be what she needed, without fail, every time. 

Blindly, she fumbled shortly for the switch. The room was soon awash in a yellowed tint. To her immense disappointment, however, it was utterly empty; the bathroom door was left wide open and the bed was unmade. Everything except his presence was unchanged. 

There was no note left behind, and she couldn’t expect there to be. He probably had assumed that she would have gone to work straight from Jill’s. 

Though, it wasn’t the fact that she didn’t know where he was that worried her. More often than not, she didn’t. He usually spent the better half of the night bouncing around on the Strip before dragging himself into Shirley’s as the sun began to climb into the sky once more. Regardless, it worked for them.

What worried her—what caused discomfort so impenetrable to work its way up her throat—was that he wasn’t here _right_ _now_ when she needed him. She was falling apart and she knew that she wasn’t strong enough to put herself back together this time. 

There was something different stirring in her brain; a pandemonium so wild in nature that she was powerless to hold it down with her own two arms. Her mind was growing too big for her body and her hands were small and useless. 

Axl and Jill were similar in their fastidious sensitivities, and yet, Valerie was the one that would end up exploding because of it. 

With a soft sigh, she fell onto the bed. That was definitely her problem—she felt too much.

Not just for Axl, though. 

While it was undoubtedly true that her heart consistently went overboard in its affection for him, she meant this in a broader sense.  _ Everything _ her heart endured hit too hard. 

Valerie wasn’t outwardly sensitive, but that was a flaw. When she was afflicted by things, she didn’t let herself be hurt by them. She didn’t allow herself to experience the complex range of any single full emotion. If she did, perhaps she would know how to handle them better. Perhaps they wouldn’t move to consume her so thoroughly. 

Instead, she just kept her thoughts and perceptions strapped to her chest like a bomb. There, they slowly ticked down until they got to be too heavy, eventually detonating and taking with them her stability.

Sure, she now felt greatly, but she also felt  _ wrongly _ . 

She didn’t want to feel anymore. 

There was no way she could let go now, though. If she and Axl wanted to keep this roof over their head, she had to go to work. He’d been running himself ragged with gigs and she had to uphold her end of the deal. They both understood that it was the only way in which this would work out. 

But it was as though she was drowning. Valerie had lost sight of the surface minutes ago and her own volatility had an ironclad grip around her ankle, pulling her down to the ocean floor. She needed to shed this dead weight or she thought she might die.

_ How the hell do other people handle these sorts of things? _

Her conscience kicked in. 

_ With the help of other people, of course. _

Her spirit sunk.

Valerie didn’t have anyone else. Her fountains of support had dried up. 

She had been banking on Axl being here to talk her down from whatever figurative ledge she had ascended upon, but with his absence, her confidence was sent scattered. She was locked out of her own mind again and the skin of her hands had been rubbed raw from pulling the handle so hard. It was no use. Valerie would have to face this one herself. 

But she didn’t want to. And, moreover, she didn’t know how to. It was a dance she never grasped the steps of, the instructions of which were written in a language that she’d never learned to speak. She was clueless about what to do. 

She couldn’t drown herself in a bottle of vodka, because the start of her shift was rapidly approaching. She couldn’t get fucked senseless, because Axl wasn’t here. Both of the ways that she typically numbed the torment weren’t viable options right now. 

Yet, Valerie was also entirely confident in the assumption that she wouldn’t be able to carry on like this. If she didn’t carve out the tumor now, it would kill her. She needed to suppress all feelings, at least for the time being.

Her frown deepened.

_ The only reason they’re said to fix your problems with feelings is because they don’t let you feel anything at all.  _

Axl’s words, strung tight with heartache, drifted into mind. She thought back to the orange bottle of pills that were tucked away beneath the bathroom counter, untouched since she had placed them there. 

Like Valerie had repeatedly chosen, Axl also favored feeling over stability. It was why he had given up the pills again, even after he had tried his hardest to stay on them. He had told her they made him feel like a mobile corpse, reducing his capability to emote to zero. 

Right now, in this precise moment, that was exactly what she wanted for herself. 

Then her sense of logic stepped in, knocking the thoughts from her mind and sending uncontrollable shivers down her spine. 

Was she really considering stealing Axl’s pills because she didn’t know how to cope with her own fucked up mind? God, she was so _screwed_ _up_. She didn’t know anything about dosage amounts, or side effects, or what being on lithium was even like. It stretched Axl too thin and he was _prescribed_ the medication. 

Her body could very well react horribly to it. That would fuck up her shift and then where would she be? Certainly in no better place physically than she would be if she took the familiar route of downing the bottle of liquor that she knew was stocked away in the minibar. 

Plus, the pills didn’t belong to her. They were Axl’s and they were put away for emergency purposes only. If he were ever to go looking for them, how would she explain the disappearance of a few?

Her shoes dug into the dark carpet. In between her clasped fingers bunched the thick, floral duvet. The war that unleashed itself in her mind was so taxing it was nearly tactile. She could sense her willpower buckling. 

Then again, his insistence that he’d never take the pills had been firm. He would never know. Not if she hid it well. He wasn’t even here to stop her. If she timed it right, she would most likely be past the come-down by the time she was with him again, too.

Nobody would ever know, would they? Not if she was smart about it. 

Valerie raised her watch to her line of sight. She had twenty-seven minutes until she had to clock-in. Factoring in the ten-minute walk it would take to get there, it left her with seventeen minutes to get her shit together. 

Either she broke down and lost control—draining the liquor and tearing her surroundings to shreds—or she popped a pill and let it take its course. Only one was concealable. Only one would allow her to carry on as though tonight had never happened. 

The alcohol might make her forget, but the pills would remove the problem entirely. 

Slowly, Val stood up and walked to the bathroom. She didn’t need the meds to understand the feeling of being ejected from her body. 

The lights flickered slightly before turning on completely, casting the teal-tiled space in a sallow halo. In the mirror, she stared down her reflection. Her make-up was still dark and pristine, the lipstick hardly smudged. There wasn’t a hair out of a place, nor a wrinkle on her uniform. There was absolutely nothing that clued into her intrinsic disintegration. 

That satisfied her. 

Bending down, she pried open the cabinet and hunted for the bottle. It hadn’t budged an inch, still positioned between the spare hair products and toilet paper rolls. If she was careful to put it back exactly where she found it, it would continue to appear that way. 

When she lifted the container up to settle on the counter, her thumb grazed over the label delicately. It was still there in its bold, black font.

_ W. Axl Rose _ . 

A wave of guilt prematurely crashed over her then. She shouldn’t be doing this. She had gained his trust when she had approached and sidelined the topic last week. This was a brutal demolition of that. Selfishly, she was taking advantage of the situation.

But her hand curled around the lid anyways, the limb shaking. Once again, she challenged just how bad that was. Valerie still believed she had long since earned the right to be selfish.

How come everybody was allowed to be but her? 

Either way, this was a one-time thing. Axl would never find out because he didn’t have to.

She quickly scanned her eyes across the printed instructions. It directed him to take 600mg, twice daily. She didn’t know how much 600mg was. One pill? Two? Three? 

This new roadblock probably should have pushed her further off course, but the effect was the opposite. Valerie simply shrugged and dug out two of the pale pink pills. Her heartbeat was rattling in her chest, panic thrumming in her arteries. At the idea that it would soon be cleansed from her body, a rare excitement bloomed. 

It was her own little fucked up form of atonement. 

She had placated Jill with the letter and Axl was currently entirely ignorant to everything that was occurring here tonight. It would be okay. By this time tomorrow, everything would be forgotten and she could return to their tentative form of normalcy. 

This wasn’t a good idea, but Valerie didn’t care. As long as it worked. 

Placing the pills onto her tongue, she swallowed them down with a large cupped handful of sink-water. It had a slight metallic taste that she tried her best to ignore. 

Then she stood up and reexamined herself in the mirror. She had managed to quell the cacophony in her mind while keeping her appearance in order. That had been all she wanted. 

Quickly, Val uncapped the tube of red lipstick and swept it across her lips. 

_ There _ . Now she was ready to go. 

She snapped the cap back onto the lipstick and the bottle of pills and squared them away in their respective locations. 

If she squinted hard enough, it was almost as though they had never left. 

She plunged both rooms back into darkness before she peeled away. Nobody but her would have to know what happened here. It was another thing to internalize, but that was okay. She felt like this time was different, anyway—somehow. It felt like a new sort of rocket was harnessed to her chest, one that she actually braced for the launching of. 

For once, she was ready for it. 

Valerie couldn’t wait to soar. 

The effects didn’t set in until she was a breath away from the doors of the diner. It was 10:56 pm and the flickering lemon-yellow Shirley’s sign no longer seemed so bright. The colors seemed muted and all of the chaos that overflowed from the adjacent Strip started to dull. The world became quiet and much more palatable. Even her anxiety decreased by miles. Her breathing patterns evened out steadily. 

She was experiencing the utter peace that accompanied the five minutes before drifting off into a restful sleep. 

But she could still move fluidly. She could still talk without interruption. It seemed like there would be nothing off about her performance. If she didn’t ponder too hard over the absence of her typical bubbliness, that is. Valerie was willing to sacrifice that in favor of a settled mind. 

_ You win some, you lose some, right?  _

She tied up her black apron and tucked her order booklet away, patting her waist to double-check for the presence of pens. She waved at Brittany, who was also on the clock tonight. The brunette waved back before returning to her table. 

Something about that planted a deep seed of pride in her abdomen. Valerie was going to be able to handle this. She would fly under the radar completely. Nobody was going to have to know that she was high enough to kiss the water-stained ceiling tiles.

Her behavior at Jill’s seemed like child’s play now. What she accomplished there seemed entirely inconsequential. Her breakdown in the street faded out of view, entirely meaningless. Her struggle to maintain control back in the motel morphed into obscurity. 

A group of leather-clad men walked in and seated themselves. 

The scene was set. Stage lights hit her from all angles. It felt like the teenage pageants all over again. Val recognized it immediately.  _ This _ was the performance of a lifetime. 

Briefly, she was able to comprehend the euphoria that Axl derived from such an act. Life was exhilarating when all the world’s a stage.

She exhaled breathily and tightened her pony-tail before flipping to a new page on the paper pad. Then, she stitched on a violently bright smile and stepped up to the men. 

“Hi, welcome to Shirley’s. My name is Valerie and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Is there anything I can get for you, boys?” 

They regarded her with curious, hungry eyes, but there was none of the usual discomfort swirling in her veins. In its place, there was a gaping, empty hole. 

She felt absolutely nothing. 

**Author's Note:**

> this story is dedicated to tayler, my best friend. without you, this story would have, undoubtedly, never left the ground. thank you endlessly for listening to me cry over axl rose for months on end. i owe you twenty billion times over. <3


End file.
